


Chick Flick

by cheeseburgersmakemeveryhappy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Castiel, Case Fic, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Realizes His Feelings For Castiel, Dean and Gender, Dean and Romantic/Sexual Orientation, Dean in Denial, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gender or Sex Swap, Happy Ending, Heterosexual Sex, Introspection, Kissing, Multi, My First Destiel Fanfic, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Protective Castiel, Rimming, Smut, Squirting, Supportive!Sam, fem!dean, noperiods, nopms, nopregs, notyourdaddysgenderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeseburgersmakemeveryhappy/pseuds/cheeseburgersmakemeveryhappy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Dean is turned into a woman to learn a lesson about himself, his relationships, his feelings for Cas, and that it doesn't matter what's on the outside -- love is love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freaky Friday

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a while since I first wrote this fic and I just had this burning desire to go back and spruce it up a bit. The plot hasn't changed, but I've added more context and insight into what the characters are thinking. I hope it reads a little better now.
> 
> BTW, these characters aren't mine, although I wish they were. ; ) Also, this is my first fanfic ever. Please provide input. I'm a fast learner.

It was May 18th and the sun felt warm on Dean’s skin, even though he knew it couldn’t be 65 degrees outside. Jackson Hole, Wyoming, was a far cry from the bunker, but he felt comfortable without his leather jacket; just jeans and a familiar red plaid flannel. The air was crisp, the sky a blue that stretched infinitely, only dotted sporadically with wisps of clouds high up in the stratosphere. He couldn’t help but smile as he tipped his head back and collected a few more rays through his closed eyes.

“Job well done, Sam,” he said, stretching his arms above his head then clapping his brother on the shoulder as they walked to the car. The most complicated part of this hunt had been the research, but Sam had outdone himself. He had tirelessly sifted through conflicting accounts of the kairn’s backstory, interviewed the only two people who had been lucky enough to live through similar experiences 25 years ago, and then finally uncovered the beast’s Achilles heel. It was literally its Achilles heel. Dean shook his head in wonder on that one.

Sam smiled at the back of his older brother’s head as Dean walked past, then opened the Impala’s back door and threw both duffel bags on the seat. He was frankly a little surprised by Dean’s good mood and quick compliment. “You want to pick up some lunch before we hit the road?” he asked.

“Yeah, I could really go for some onion rings and a chocolate milkshake,” Dean grinned. “Let’s swing by that diner then get on the highway.” There was something about the thought of a celebratory onion ring that boosted Dean’s spirits even higher.

Sam tossed Dean the keys as he folded himself into the passenger seat, buoyed by his brother’s good mood. “We should be able to get to Denver in about eight and a half hours,” he said. “There’s a haunting that should be a pretty easy job.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean replied.

Down the street, the two slipped into a red vinyl booth that squeaked as Sam slid across it. A tall blond in her mid-thirties introduced herself as Jenna and rattled off the daily specials. Dean flashed his best winning smile, called her “darlin” and then made good on his promise by ordering rings and a shake. Sam splurged, getting a side of fries with his chicken Caesar salad. The two talked about the case for a few minutes then settled into a comfortable silence.

Last night they had finished with the kairn and returned those two farmers to their homes early enough to grab dinner. By 7:00 pm Dean was kicking off his boots and plopping down on the motel room couch, which was long compared to most and easily accommodated himself; Sam’s 6’ 4” frame; and Cas, who had pitched in with the case at the last minute. Having an angel of the Lord on your side came in handy more often than not.

Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back was on TBS and Dean spent most of the movie acting out his favorite lines.

“’Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father,’” Dean rasped, channeling his inner Vader.

“’He told me enough! He told me YOU killed him,’” Sam replied in a high falsetto.

“‘No, I am your father,’” Dean shot back.

“’NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’” they both cried, Dean falling to his knees and clutching his shirt as Sam threw a sock at him. Cas actually laughed out loud, a huge smile on his face as the brothers re-enacted this scene for probably the 42nd time. Dean fell back on the couch, his arm behind Cas’ shoulders and a big grin on his face. He felt so happy in that little motel room, joking around with his brother and best friend. Later, Cas had disappeared in a small breeze as the brothers said good night.

\-------------------------------------------

Nine hours and 530 miles down the road, the Impala finally shifted into park at the Dunmovin Inn. _Really, who comes up with these names?_ Dean thought to himself. No doubles, just kings. After agreeing to meet up in the morning, he opened Room 14, walked past the tiny kitchenette, and tossed his bag on the oversized bed. He had spent most of his life sleeping in the passenger seats of cars and on crappy doubles, so the prospect of stretching out on a king-sized bed pleased him. He headed for the john.

He was washing his hands when he heard a slight rustle behind him. Glancing up to the mirror, he was startled to find Castiel’s thin frame standing directly behind him. “Jesus, Cas!” he grumbled, turning quickly to face his unannounced guest. “A little space?”

“Sorry Dean,” Cas offered, taking a large step backwards. “I see you and Sam had an uneventful trip.”

“Yeah, just bushed from driving. You hanging around for a while?”

“If you like,” Cas offered, tilting his head slightly to the right.

“Good,” Dean replied. He grabbed a beer from the six-pack he and Sam bought on the way to the motel and held it up to Cas, who shook his head. Dean wondered if the angel would ever just take one. He committed to continue offering beers in the hopes that one day Cas surprised him. “Turn on the TV,” he said with a nod.

Castiel sat on the edge of the bed and loosened his tie while Dean propped himself against the headboard. He took a long drag on his Coors, frowning slightly. “Dude, you’re more of a door than a window. Scoot back.” Dean had maybe two inches in height on Cas, but certainly 15 pounds in mass. Still, the bed’s overused springs creaked slightly when Cas obliged, propping up two pillows as he joined Dean at the head of the bed.

They spent more and more evenings like this when the brothers were on the road, and Dean wasn’t complaining. There were few constants in his life and regardless of the shit that both he and his brother regularly sought out, Cas only hesitated to be there with them when Heaven’s demands became too urgent to ignore. The angel was a solid presence; strong and capable. He was their gun in a knife fight.

Dean glanced at his friend’s profile as he watched the screen and smiled. He was honestly glad Cas was there.

“I wonder if Star Wars is on again,” Cas mused, his eyes still on the TV as his deep voice managed to make even the most mundane conversation sound like a courtroom drama. “I enjoyed that movie. You and Sam were quite entertaining last night.”

Dean grinned at the memory and tipped his beer in salute. “Any time you need someone to explain some of the best sci fi on the planet, I am here for you,” he said. “I keep telling you that movie is a friggin classic.” The two sat side by side for a while, watching a sitcom with too much laugh track. Soon Cas started fidgeting, stealing a sideways glance or two at Dean.

“What’s eating you?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” Cas replied, “I have a question.”

“Spit it out,” Dean sighed and took another swig from his bottle.

“Dean. Look at me please,” Cas said with a little more weight to his words. Dean twisted to face him, eyebrows raised. Cas stared at Dean, then squinted just a bit in concentration. “Dean, I have a confession to make,” he said. “I don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this. It seems like years. But, I just want to tell you that I hold your and Sam’s friendship very dear.”

Dean smiled and relaxed. “Well, we feel the same way about you, man. Hell, you’re family, Cas.”

Cas paused, dropping his blue eyes to contemplate the bedspread’s worn stitching before continuing. “After everything we’ve been through together, I really can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with,” he said quietly. Then he looked up, adding, “On a Wednesday. In Denver.”

Dean’s brows inched closer as he considered Cas’ words. “What’s going on, Cas?” he asked, twisting to set his beer bottle on the nightstand and then shifting to face his friend. The angel seemed uncharacteristically anxious and Dean wondered what was really bothering him. “Has something happened in Heaven? Are you being pushed out?”

“No, Dean,” Cas replied. He stared into the hunter’s eyes, hoping for a glimmer of understanding but found none. So he let out a little huff of air, squared his shoulders, and asked the question that had been nagging at him through the last four years of traded smiles, long glances and ultimate sacrifices. It had solidified for Cas in that dusty barn when Dean had told him he’d rather have him, “cursed or not.”

“Dean, is there anyone _you’d_ rather be with?” he asked softly.

Dean was taken aback. “What, you mean like Sammy? Or…Lisa?” _Where the hell was this going?_ “Cas, apart from my brother, no one understands me like you do. So no. In the absence of a tall redhead with questionable morals, there’s no one I’d rather hang out with.”

Unfortunately, Dean’s words didn’t have the effect he had hoped for because Cas seemed crestfallen. “What _is_ it?” he demanded, exasperated by the angel’s reaction.

He watched as some kind of resolve flashed in Cas’ eyes, then in a fluid motion the angel leaned into Dean’s space, tilted his head, and lightly kissed his lips. Dean’s eyes went wide as a look of confusion and surprise spread across his face. Cas retreated slightly, holding his breath and honestly hoping that Dean wouldn’t punch him. For a second and a half Dean stared into Cas’ deep blue eyes and then without much conscious thought, he tentatively leaned forward and kissed Cas back.

Dean’s senses were flooded with the scent of fresh-cut grass and vanilla, which radiated off of Cas in Dean’s own personal fantasy of eau de angel. He stopped thinking and just bathed in the warmth that radiated through his lips, down into his belly and out through his toes. Forgetting himself, he lightly licked Cas’ lower lip, which slowly dropped in response. The two men simultaneously shifted together, and then Dean closed his eyes and let his tongue explore Cas’ mouth. A warm hand covered his own on the bedspread, and Cas kissed him like he was coming home.

Breathing deeply through his nose and kissing the man who had saved his life more times than he could count, Dean felt an incredible lightness in his chest. It was like he was carbonated on the inside. A small moan bubbled out as Cas’ other hand gently came up to hold his jaw, a thumb lightly rubbing against Dean’s cheek. He wasn’t leaning into that palm, nuzzling into the strong fingers that held him safely. Well maybe he was. All he knew was that he hadn’t felt this tingle in his gut in a long time. It was good. Cas was a damn good kisser.

After minutes or hours – Dean couldn’t be sure—a deep, gravelly voice whispered his name and pressed their foreheads together. Dean opened his eyes and remembered where he was.

Every warning bell rang in his ears and he pulled back, unsure of what to do next. His face flashed panic. Cas caught Dean’s eyes and looked at him, puzzled. “What’s wrong Dean?” he asked.

“Cas, buddy, I…uh…” Dean stuttered. _Oh shit! Shit, shit, SHIT!_ He started again. “Cas, that was, uh, great and unexpected, and I get that you’re an angel and all, but…” He tore his eyes away and looked at the brown shag carpet, hoping it would suddenly form the words he could say that would explain without hurting Cas’ feelings. God, he didn’t want to hurt Cas’ feelings. Dean wiped his hand down the front of his face, put his other hand on Cas’ knee and said “Cas I know I have feelings for you, but I always assumed they were ‘best friend’ feelings because this just isn’t who I am. I’m straight. Do you understand? Please tell me you understand?”

Cas searched Dean’s eyes, hoping to find some sudden resolve or change of heart. Instead he found anguish and concern – not the emotions he had hoped for. With a heavy sigh, he stood. “I understand, Dean,” Cas whispered. “I wish you could see me the way I see you. When I look at you I see your body and your soul. Both are truly beautiful. Dean, I am neither male nor female, even though I happen to be in a male body. And even if it would make it easier for you, I won’t take a different one.” Cas’ shoulders felt heavy. “But know that this doesn’t change how I feel about you. I am still your friend. You can always count on me, Dean.”

And then Castiel was gone. And Dean needed a drink.

\-------------------------------------------

Dean sent his brother a quick text, knowing that Sam would wonder where Dean was off to as soon as he heard the Impala’s engine start up right outside his door.

**Dean: Need to get out. Bar down the street. See you in the am.**

**Sam: K**

The bar was more yuppie than seedy. Even at, what was it, 11 pm on a Wednesday, it was close quarters. College kids were playing darts and pool. Investment bankers were talking up fashionistas while all of them checked their cell phones. Imagine Dragons played overhead, but thankfully no karaoke or dance floor. Two large bars were located towards the back of the room. They boasted the pre-requisite glass mirrors and were lined with bottles of premium spirits for the high rollers and bachelorette parties. Cozy booths covered in crushed velvet lined one side of the room.

Dean slid up to the bar on the left with two bullet points on his agenda:

• Get whiskey

• Get frisky

First things first. Dean signaled the bartender and ordered two shots and a beer. He downed the Jack quickly then took a deep breath and thought about his life.

Cas’ whole “profound bond” thing sounded ridiculous, but Dean knew it was true. When the angel had first found him, trapped in Hell and surrounded by the most stinking evil imaginable, Dean’s soul was broken; ragged. Cas stitched him back together, replacing the cruelty and terror with feelings of safety, compassion and wholeness. Then he gripped Dean’s soul tightly and fought their way through all of that pain and fear and sweat, branding him in the process with a hand print that Dean had never wanted to remove. Cas had remade him and he could feel that deeply inside. Of course they had a bond. He owed Cas more than his life; he owed him his eternal soul.

He sighed into his beer.

Objectively, he had nothing against guys who liked guys. He was very unsettled, however, by the thought of liking a guy himself. You know, that way. Dean was very good at, and comfortable with, loving women. He clicked through a mental checklist:

• Tits are awesome

• Soft skin feels amazing

• Sex with women – fucking awesome. _See what I did there?_

• Seriously, the moving together; finding that rhythm; being surrounded by luscious, wet heat…

 _Why am I even second-guessing this_ , he thought as he took another gulp.

_Because Cas, that’s why._

Those however many minutes had been toe-curlingly, satisfyingly amazing. He was slightly pissed at himself at the thought.

_Not into dudes. Not into dudes._

With a huff, he tried to wrap his head around Cas’ words. It was hard to process that he was making out with a non-gendered entity when everything about Cas screamed “male.” Cas walked around in a man suit and, Dean admitted to himself, Cas was a good-looking guy as far as guys go. Cas was also a bad-ass who still scared the crap out of him on occasion, even after all these years.

So Dean wasn’t into guys, but he sure as shit was into that kiss. Maybe that was the difference. It wasn’t kissing a guy, it was kissing his best friend—it was kissing an angel. _SHIT_.

 _Okay, enough_. Maybe it had just been too long. Maybe he needed a willing and nubile female partner to get him firmly back on track. He scanned the room and saw three women sitting at a tall table, drinking cosmos and laughing too loudly. _Nope_. Next up, two college girls who were obviously being courted by the guys behind them. _No way_. He continued scanning the room, failing to notice the lovely brunette who slipped onto the bar stool next to him until she lightly touched his elbow.

“Hey there,” she smiled. “Cheesy, I know, but can you pass the nuts?”

 _Perfect_. “Hey yourself, darlin,” Dean cooed, dragging the bowl over in front of her. “How’s your evening going? Dean,” he said, holding out his hand. He had slid into Casanova mode within three seconds – new personal best.

“Candy,” the brunette replied, shaking Dean’s hand. She was quite attractive; probably in her early thirties with long brown hair that settled in waves around her face. Her pretty brown eyes swept up Dean’s body appreciatively, from his gut to his lashes. “If I can make it through this evening without some college kid slipping a roofie in my drink, I’ll call it a win,” she winked.

Dean’s smile increased by about 200 watts. “I’m about to be your official drink taster,” he grinned. “Why don’t we find a little quieter corner where we can get better acquainted?” Dean had already slipped off his bar stool, grabbing his beer. He had his hand at Candy’s back, guiding her to an empty booth across the bar and away from the frat boys and the ties.

Forty-five minutes later, Dean was on his fourth whiskey shot of the evening and whispering in Candy’s ear about his motel room. “Slow down there, tiger,” she laughed.

“You are gorgeous, you know that?” Dean purred in her ear. His hand found her knee, and he left it there, upping the ante just a bit. “Prettiest thing in this bar.” He gave her knee just the barest of squeezes, feeling the cotton of her skirt rumple under his fingers. Then in a practiced movement his hand slipped under, gently landing on the flesh beneath. He heard her breath catch in her chest. _Perfect_.

“Dean,” Candy breathed, “let’s really slow it down a bit.” She placed her hand on top of his, stilling any potential forward progress.

“Are you sure, darlin?” Dean offered. “I would love to spend the next few hours alone with you. No strings attached. What do you say?” His pointer finger started drawing little circles on her lower thigh and he was pretty sure those were goosebumps on her skin.

An almost imperceptible expression flickered across Candy’s face; a little hardness set in her brow. And then it was gone and she leaned into Dean, whispering “you know what, you’re on. Let’s see what you’ve got under the hood.” She took his hand and led him through the throng and out onto the street where a blast of cool Colorado air slapped him across the face. Within seconds he was sliding behind the wheel, thanking his lucky stars that not only had Candy (or was it Sandy?) agreed to join him, but that the motel was only three blocks away.

Once there, he parked the Impala and fumbled in his jacket for the room key. He pulled Candy close, his lips on her neck as he finally got the door open. But once inside, Candy wheeled on him, pushing him hard against the wall and whispering in his ear seductively. “You know Dean I bet you’re a nice enough guy, but you really need to learn a lesson. Good news? I’m just the lady to teach you.”

For some reason Dean felt himself sway on his feet. He tried to concentrate. “Teach me a lesson,” he repeated, and it almost sounded like a whine. Something weird was happening. Was the room spinning? “I’m a fast learner, Sandy,” he teased as he slid a hand under Candy’s blouse and touched the warm skin on her back. Without warning a sudden wave of nausea hit and Dean’s smile wavered as thoughts of running to the bathroom filled his mind.

Candy’s gaze hardened. “You’re going to have an awful hangover tomorrow and a lot to process. Here’s what you better remember: you’re going to stay this way until your lesson is learned and then you’ll change back,” she said with an edge to her voice. “But if you have intercourse, it will be permanent. Repeat that back to me.”

Dean looked into Candy’s eyes. _Weren’t they brown?_ Now they were a dizzying, blazing gold. He flushed hot and his head was literally buzzing, yet he heard the words leave his lips: “I’ll stay this way until I’ve learned my lesson, and then I’ll change back. But if I have intercourse, it will be permanent. Are we going to have **intercourse** , Sandy?” Dean murmured. His eyelids were so heavy.

Candy shook her head and stared into Dean’s green eyes. “Nighty night, Dean,” she whispered, and immediately his knees buckled and the room went dark. Candy, or whatever her real name was, easily caught the 185-pound hunter and laid him out on the bed behind her.


	2. Hells Ya

Dean woke to a throbbing headache and sunshine that seemed to pour into the room and burn holes in his eye sockets. _Crap_. He rolled over and away from the window, hiding his head under the worn bed spread. That one word seemed to rattle around in his noggin, creating sharp stabs of pain. _What the hell happened last night? Wait, wasn’t there a girl?_ He propped himself up gingerly on his elbows and squinted around the room. No one else was there and the bathroom was silent. _Huh_.

The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 6:42, egging Dean to gingerly climb out of bed. As he stood, he felt his jeans start to slide down his legs. _What the hell?_ He grabbed them and stumbled to the bathroom, purposefully leaving the light off. Facing the toilet, he sighed, placed one hand against the wall and let go of his pants with the other. He fished around in his boxers, but came up empty. _That’s wrong_ , he thought sleepily. Then his eyes sprang open as he realized that there was nothing in his hand. “WHAT?!” Dean yelled as panic and fear rose up in his throat. He immediately didn’t recognize the voice that came out of his mouth, wheeled around, caught his reflection in the mirror, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Next door, Sam had been typing away on his laptop when he heard it. His head jerked up and he was on his feet in an instant. “Dean?” he yelled, loud enough (he hoped) to be heard through the wall. He grabbed his room key and rushed outside. “Dean, open up!” he pleaded, pounding on his brother’s door. Sam whipped his head around to see if anyone else had heard what sounded suspiciously like a horror movie coming from inside.

In the bathroom, Dean heard his brother at the door but found himself frozen, eyes locked on the image in front of him. He knew a mirror was on that wall, but maybe someone had hung a picture there instead while he was passed out. His head pounded, rapid pulse reverberating against his temples. He raised his hand and the figure in front of him followed: an attractive woman about 5’7” with straight, light brown hair that rested just above her shoulders. She had Dean’s green eyes (which at this point were wide with fright) and a look of absolute panic on her tanned, freckled face. “Sam?” he heard his voice call out, about two octaves higher than normal. “Sam!” he tried again.

“Dean, who is that? Are you okay?”

Dean ripped his eyes from the mirror and ran to the door, throwing it open and looking up into his little brother’s confused face. “Sam, holy crap! HOLY CRAP!” he yelled.

Sam glanced down at the woman in front of him then over her head, searching for Dean on the bed, on the floor, in the kitchenette. _No blood, thank God_ , he thought as he pushed past her. He was in the bathroom in three quick strides.

“SAM!” he heard from the other room. He turned to see the woman staring at him, waiving her hands in the air. “I am a WOMAN!!”

“Where’s Dean?” Sam squinted at her, getting right into her personal space. Concern and anger rolled off him in waves. He grabbed her arms firmly, belatedly noticing she was swimming in Dean’s t-shirt, flannel and boxer shorts. “Why are you wearing his clothes?”

“Sam it’s me! I’m Dean!” Dean struggled to get free from Sam’s grasp. His brother dropped his hands, confusion sweeping over his face. He took a step back to look squarely at the person in front of him. The woman’s distress was palpable and Sam couldn’t help but shift into protector mode.

“What? Wait, what?”

“It’s me, Sam. I’m Dean and I’m a chick! WHAT. THE. FUCK?!” he demanded. Dean looked down at his legs, his hands, his… wait a minute. He ran to the bathroom again and faced the mirror, twisting out of the flannel shirt and throwing it on the ground to see boobs, actual boobs, stretching against his white t-shirt. “I have tits!?!” he screamed.

Sam stood behind Dean and stared at the mirror in shock. He could make out the anti-possession tattoo through the woman’s white t-shirt, and at that point realized he was staring at his brother’s breasts. He instinctively raised his eyes to Dean’s in the mirror. “Holy shit, dude,” Sam whispered.

“Holy shit,” Dean repeated. Eyes wide, he touched his face and felt no familiar stubble. His nose looked thinner, lips fuller and a little pinker. His entire frame was more feminine, obviously, with curves in the right places. He wasn’t anemic, but probably 40 to 50 pounds lighter. Muscle tone showed through his arms. He lifted the t-shirt to check out his belly: fairly flat but with a little roundness. Regular Dean, just smaller and softer. He looked up again, catching Sam’s eyes in the mirror. “Dude, my hair is longer than yours,” he said quietly. He turned to face his brother. Dean had always been a few inches shorter than Sam (who the hell wasn’t?) but now he had to seriously crane his neck to look him in the eye.

Dean walked out of the bathroom in a fog. Sam followed him back out to the main room as they both sat down on the bed. “Dean, what the hell happened to you last night?” he asked.

Dean’s mind was racing. What did happen? He remembered Cas in his room, and then Cas in his mouth and turned bright red.

“What is it?” Sam frowned.

“Um, I had a… misunderstanding. With Cas. That’s why I went to the bar,” he replied. “Sandy!” Dean whipped his head around to face Sam as the night slowly came back to him. “I mean Candy! Sam I met this girl named Candy, and we came back here.” He grasped at memories. Did they have sex? He didn’t remember that at all. And then her words came back to him. “Crap,” he groaned and slumped forward with his head in his hands.

“DEAN!” Cas was suddenly in the room and walking towards the bed. He stopped short as both brothers jumped and stared at him, Dean’s eyes huge as a flicker of embarrassment passed through him. “I, uh, could tell you were very upset,” Cas said, his eyes scanning both of their faces. “I came as soon as I could.” He stood in front of Dean, looking down on him in confusion, and then squatted on his heels.

“It’s me, Cas. I’m a chick,” Dean said, shaking his head as the realization started to sink in.

“Dean, of course I know it’s you,” Cas replied, searching his eyes. “Your soul hasn’t changed. I was trying to tell you that last night.” He tentatively reached out and put his hand on Dean’s knee.

Dean could feel Sam bristle beside him as he looked between his brother/sister and friend. “Exactly what kind of misunderstanding did you two have?” Sam asked.

“Dean and I were…” Cas felt Dean’s grip on his other hand and immediately realized the delicacy of the situation. “…talking last night about how I can see his soul through his body. He thought I was saying something else.” He straightened and sat in the chair next to the TV, across from them. “Dean, what happened after I left?” he asked.

Dean squirmed under the weight of the four eyes staring at him. He looked down at his now more feminine hands and listened to a voice that wasn’t his own explain the evening’s events. “Candy, this woman from the bar, told me to remember. That I would be stuck like this until I learned my lesson. Oh my God, I don’t even know what my ‘lesson’ is!” Then Dean shook his head and added, “She said that if I had sex, this would be permanent.”

“Really?!” Sam asked.

“Well she said ‘intercourse,’ which I thought was her way of hitting on me. Crap, Sam! How am I going to figure out what my lesson is and get my dick back?” Dean groaned.

Sam tried unsuccessfully to hide a smirk, so Dean punched him in the shoulder, hard. “Ow!” Sam said, smiling and rubbing the spot. “Sorry, but that sounded weird coming from chick-you. You’re pretty strong, dude.”

Cas just shook his head. “Dean, we need to go back to the bar and see if anyone knows who she is. However, you can’t go out like that. You’re going to need clothes that fit you.”

“And a bra,” Sam chuckled.

\----------------------

Dean’s flannel shirt became a mini dress after a little improvisation and a belt. He felt extremely self-conscious about his new body, tugging on the hem of the shirt to keep it from exposing too much thigh. He would have appreciated it on any other woman, but now he felt like everyone was staring at him.

Four tortuous hours at a local department store later and the three were hefting tissue paper-filled white bags containing boot-cut jeans, t-shirts, a button-down blouse, a new FBI suit, a light jacket, a pair of brown half-boots and two-inch black heels. Dean gripped a smaller bag more possessively, the one with two push-up bras and “boy-cut” pairs of panties. He had slipped in two additional pairs of pink silk numbers with lace because, _why not_?

Back at the motel, he emerged from the bathroom suitably covered and much more comfortable. Well, the bra felt tight against his ribs but it fit, according to the matronly woman who conducted a “personal fitting” that was way too personal for Dean’s tastes. He walked out for inspection in a pair of dark rinse jeans and a scoop-neck Led Zepplin t-shirt that hugged his new curves without dipping so low as to be a distraction to himself and others. Sam nodded approvingly. Cas just smiled.

“Are we going to get cracking on this haunting, or what?” Dean asked. “I mean I figure we’ll want to talk to the evening crew at the bar about Candy, so that gives us plenty of time to start working this case.” Dean walked to the mini fridge and grabbed a beer. He remembered his personal pledge and offered one to Cas with a smile. Cas shook his head to decline, but watched Dean move about the room with interest. Dean plopped on the bed.

“Are you sure, Dean?” Sam asked. “I mean, how are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam, I’m sure. I’m a chick, not an invalid.” He was getting accustomed to his new, higher-pitched voice. “Do you need time to do some research?”

After a second, Sam nodded his head and said “Yea, I need to look some stuff up. Can you give me a couple of hours?”

“Sure,” Dean said. He caught Cas’ eyes on him and realized that there was a conversation that needed to happen there. “Hey, Cas and I are going to grab a bite. Want us to bring something back for you?”

Sam already had his laptop open. “That would be great. Thanks,” he replied.

Dean left his beer on the kitchenette counter and motioned to Cas with his head. “Come on, buddy. Let’s find a place where a girl can get a milkshake. And some onion rings.”

Not a quarter of a mile away, Dean pulled the Impala into a Chili’s parking lot. He added a Whiskey River burger to his order. Cas just nursed an iced tea, but not because he was thirsty; it was more to keep up appearances. He watched as a few men headed to the bar area and gave Dean a quick once-over.

“Dean, I’m sorry this happened to you,” he started.

“Yea,” Dean said lightly. “Cas, I think I may owe you an apology too. We okay?” He looked down at his half-eaten burger and the remaining three onion rings on the tall pole they had arrived on. “Ugh. Why am I so stuffed?”

Cas offered a small grin. “Yes, Dean, we’re fine. However I think your new stomach is smaller than your old one.”

Dean tossed him a look of mild frustration. “Whatever,” he said, shaking it off. He glanced up to get the waitress’ attention and inadvertently made eye contact with a tall blond man on his cell phone. The man smiled at Dean as he continued his conversation and raised his eyebrows a little. Dean actually glanced around to see who the guy was gawking at, then quickly realized it was himself. He offered an annoyed look back and the man quickly broke eye contact and looked away.

Cas watched the exchange in silence, then sighed. “Dean, you should know that you are very attractive in this form. I doubt he will be the last man to look at you appreciatively.”

Dean rolled his eyes for the second time that day. “You know,” he replied, taking a long draw on his milkshake, “you should be offended, Cas. I mean you’re sitting right here and some strange guy is making eyes at me.”

“Dean I’m quite used to other people finding you desirable,” Cas said. “I’m more concerned about you based on our discussion last night. You are going to have a lot more male attention now. It will undoubtedly make you… uncomfortable.”

Dean let that sink in for a minute, holding Cas’ eyes in a mini staring contest that was so familiar it no longer irritated him. “Let’s get Sam a Cobb salad and go back to the room,” he said. “Then we can come up with a game plan for the rest of the day.”

Sam was still pouring over floorplans and lore pages on the Lumber Baron Inn when Dean and Cas knocked on his door.

“We got you a Cobb salad, Sam,” Cas said. Dean dropped the to-go bag on the table in front of his brother.

“Thanks,” Sam replied, returning to his research.

Cas looked at Dean, then turned to Sam and said “You know, I think I might have some information for Dean that will help him with his situation. I’ve been watching humans for millennia.”

Dean looked up at Cas with mild interest. “Yea?” he asked.

“Yes, Dean,” he replied. “However you might find it embarrassing. Can we talk in private?”

“Sure,” Dean complied, arching an eyebrow in Cas’ direction. “Sam, we’ll be next door.”

“Hmm,” Sam responded. “We should head over to the bar later, maybe at 9:00?”

“Sounds good,” Dean replied as he and Cas walked out.

“Hmm,” Sam smiled behind them.

\-------------------------------------------------

“What have you got for me, Cas?” Dean asked as they walked into the room. His hair kept swinging in front of his face so he reached up and tucked some behind each ear. _I should have asked Sammy for a barrette or something_ , he thought with a snicker. He startled as Cas gently turned him around and they stood almost face to face. He could feel Cas’ hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes inquisitively.

“Dean, can I please kiss you again?” Cas whispered.

Dean blinked. “What?” he asked, trying to buy a little time as his mind started throwing out color commentary. _Hell yes, that kiss was awesome! But I’m not into dudes. Cas isn’t a dude, he said it himself. God he smelled so good. I’m straight! I’m STRAIGHT!_

He looked down, alternatingly pissed off and turned on. He remembered his recent feelings about Cas’ handiwork on his soul and suddenly all of his pent-up anxiety rushed in. He felt so frustrated and vulnerable for the first time in a very long time. He really just wanted someone to hold onto. Scratch that; he really wanted to hold onto someone he trusted, who understood him, and who would make him feel safe. He looked into Cas' eyes and nodded.

Cas cradled Dean’s cheeks in his hands and leaned down to kiss him. It was like sliding into place, like knowing where you belong. Dean reached around Cas’ waist and pulled him closer, parting his lips to let Cas in. He again was reminded of summer and home as he breathed Cas in, failing to stifle a small sigh. Without meaning to, he felt himself relax.

They kissed for several more minutes until Cas broke away to whisper against Dean’s neck. “You are just as lovely this way as you were last night,” he said, gently kissing below Dean’s ear. Dean brought his hands together against Cas’ shirt front and looked at his own slender fingers. He started to shake his head but Cas caught his chin. “It’s going to be alright, Dean,” he assured, kissing his nose and cheeks lightly. “I can help you. I will help you.”

He suddenly had no doubt. There was something about Cas, something about _this_ , that had Dean feeling grounded and calm. And then everything crystalized in Dean’s brain like he had found a missing puzzle piece. Dean was walking around in a chick suit, just like Cas was walking around in a dude suit. That didn’t make Dean a woman, so why was he treating Cas like he was a man?

 _Holy shit_.

He thought to himself for a while, and then remembered Cas had been watching all of humanity for thousands of years. He slowly smiled and looked up. “What do you know about multiple orgasms, Cas?”

The angel’s smile was dazzling.

\------------------------------------

After using his angelic mojo to guarantee that the tub was absolutely sanitized ( _since when did Dean care about germs?_ ), Cas drew a perfect bath, filling it with bubbles using the little shampoo bottle Dean belatedly realized he would need later. As Cas carefully pulled the Led Zepplin t-shirt over Dean’s head and removed the bra, Dean caught himself in the bathroom mirror and was again surprised by his own skin. He was so used to hard muscles, callouses and hair. Now everything was smooth and soft.

The sound of a zipper being pulled caught his attention, and Dean suddenly blushed crimson and swore under his breath. Cas caught a peek of pink lace and chuckled, low in his throat, letting his hands pass over the smooth fabric before pulling them down as well. They looked each other in the eyes as the realization hit them both that Dean was now naked, completely exposed. He let out a shaky breath as he grabbed Cas’ blue tie and pulled the angel up to his feet.

Cas’ lips were on his as Dean slid the silk tie off Cas’ neck and started unbuttoning the white dress shirt that was practically his friend’s second skin. _Here I am, undressing a guy_ , he thought nervously. Cas’ skin was smooth and pale, yet surprisingly warm. Where Dean always knew himself to be the bigger of the two, he suddenly realized he was now the more petite flower in this arrangement. He took a deep breath as he ran his fingers down the firm muscles on Cas’ arms, then eased Cas’ pants and boxers off his hips so they could fall to the floor. Dean exhaled slowly, maintaining perfect eye contact. He was not at all ready to acknowledge the angel’s erection.

Cas turned and stepped into the tub, sitting against the back to make room for Dean between his legs. Dean followed, acutely aware of Cas’ cock nestled firmly against his ass as he tried to relax and leaned back. The room was quiet and Cas paused, resting his chin on the top of Dean’s head. _This is probably his second time naked with a woman_ , Dean reminded himself. He brought Cas’ hands in front of them both and dropped the soap into them. With a little chuckle, Cas got the hint and lathered up, slowly massaging Dean’s toned shoulders and arms. The slight sloshing of water broke the silence, even though Dean was sure Sam could hear his heart pounding in the motel room next door.

Tension started slowly leaking away as Cas’ thumbs rubbed small circles into Dean’s shoulder blades. He applied just the right amount of pressure to the muscle there and Dean smiled in spite of his nerves and thought, _this is awesome_. After a second’s pause, he felt the angel’s hands move over his breasts, squeezing gently and offering the same blissful massage he had so deftly applied to his back. An unbelievable tingle flowed straight from his nipples to his crotch. _Wow_ , he thought, making mental notes. _Not gripping, just gentle squeezes. That is friggin amazing_. Dean sighed and leaned back even further.

Cas began the lesson. “Dean,” he said in low tones that seemed to rumble into Dean’s back, “I’m going to slide my hands down your stomach and gently touch your clitoris. I’m sure you know how sensitive you will be.” Slowly his hands started moving down Dean’s body. He left one curled around Dean’s waist and let the other travel until his middle finger gently pushed Dean’s lower lips apart and rested on that small knob of nerves that electrified Dean’s entire body. His eyes shot open.

“I’m going to make slow circles now, pressing just a little harder,” Cas continued. Dean gasped. This felt so different from anything he knew. It was fierce and he moaned out loud, certain that a current was coursing through his skin. Cas kissed up and down his neck, and then rolled the muscle lightly between his teeth, never stopping that exquisite pressure.

Within seconds Dean’s body shook in response to Cas’ touch like it had a mind of its own. An internal tug ran through his core, hooked back up to his chest, and then traveled down again, making him cry out. “Shit Cas, how do you know all this?” he whispered in his impossibly feminine voice. His hips started grinding against that one very skilled finger, which never stopped stroking, sliding up and down his clit and further, to the wetter, hotter part of him. “Oh God!” he moaned loudly, letting his head fall back against his friend’s shoulder.

“I have been paying very close attention, Dean,” Cas replied, “for a very long time.”

As Dean panted, trying to take in all of the sensations his body was experiencing, he couldn’t help wondering what his fingers had felt like to Lisa or any of the other women he had had the pleasure of touching. Was it this good? It was amazing to watch your partner come completely undone beneath your hands, but it was another entirely to feel it yourself. That’s what he wanted. Now. “Faster, Cas. Just a little faster,” he pleaded.

Cas complied, quickening the pace but keeping it steady. He whispered, “As you get closer to climax, you’ll feel the throbbing you’ve always known, the building in your hips.”

And Dean felt it, felt the current gather at his toes then crawl up his legs straight to where Cas’ finger was moving. It curled up between his hips, coiling tighter and tighter. He arched his back as the hand around his waist reached up to cup one of his breasts, gently massaging the tender flesh there. Cas rolled his thumb over a hard nipple. “Oh shit!” Dean almost sobbed, “Ohhhh! Oh God!” and then he jerked back into Cas, who held him tight and stroked him all the way through it, until Dean was left gasping and chuckling to himself.

They spent the next few minutes like that, with Dean wrapped in Castiel’s arms. Then Cas stood and pulled Dean up against him. He led them both out of the tub, pulling the stopper so the water would drain. Cas quickly toweled them both dry, murmuring against Dean’s belly, licking his nipples and rubbing the towel up and down his thighs. Dean was smiling and feeling that tingle again as they both climbed into bed. It was 7:30. “This time you may want to try holding your breath just as you feel your orgasm start,” Cas recommended, pulling Dean up so his back was resting slightly against Cas’ chest. “I understand almost passing out can be quite pleasurable.”

Dean came two more times that evening. Once he realized that Sam was on the other side of the wall, he buried his face into Cas’ neck and held his breath to keep from screaming. He lost himself completely that time, coming back to pins and needles and Cas breathing heavily right along with him. And then amazingly, he was ready again, quickly building up to another orgasm as Cas panted lightly in his ear as and kept playing Dean like a bass guitar, Dean’s arousal coating his fingers. When Cas started describing how he planned to gently ease his finger inside Dean, Dean just about came right there. Cas skillfully alternated between strokes to Dean’s clit and sliding his finger inside him until Dean's orgasm seemed to burst from his chest.

Cas’ name had been on his lips that time, and Dean had a fleeting thought of _shit_ , until he heard Cas exhale raggedly and felt him rub gently against Dean’s thigh. He immediately realized that Cas had not once mentioned anything about his current state. “Hey,” he whispered. “Thank you. Thank you.” He may have actually giggled as he rolled the length of his body against Cas’ so the angel's erection could press against his belly. This whole thing may have been new, but that languid, tired feeling after sex was like snuggling inside a warm, familiar blanket. Cas’ eyes opened and Dean was struck by the affection behind them. “Come inside me, Cas,” he whispered, reaching down to stroke the angel’s hard cock.

Cas groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, then whispered, “Dean, no intercourse. Remember?” through gritted teeth.

The silence hung heavily between them and Dean actually felt disappointed. “Do you want me to get you off?” he whispered, slowly starting to pet Cas’ erection. He slid his palm through the liquid at the top before slipping his hand down to stroke the length under his fingers. He hoped what he was doing felt as good to Cas at it usually felt when he did it to himself. He needn’t have worried. Dean’s soft hands sent ripples of pleasure through Cas’s body, but he stopped them with his own and exhaled a long, controlled breath.

“This isn’t about me, Dean,” he said. “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. I’ll be fine if you give me a few minutes to wind down.”

“Cas,” Dean answered, “I just offered to fuck you. I think I’m okay with jacking you off.” He started to resume his movements, feeling Cas respond immediately with small twitches. “Hey,” he said softly. “You’ve done this to yourself before, right?”

“Actually, no Dean,” Cas replied. It had been years since his night with April, and Cas hadn't really thought about sex since then. It might have had something to do with his partner killing him the next day. He closed his eyes to avoid Dean’s surprised reaction, but Dean just smiled, closed his eyes as well, and picked up the pace a bit.

Dean was judging how close Cas must be by the movement of his hips. He was thinking about how he wanted Cas to feel as good as he did, believing confidently that he could do this for the guy who just shared three amazing orgasms with him, when he opened his eyes and was shocked to see panic and fear written plainly across Cas’ face.

“What?!” Dean gasped, raising his hands instinctively.

“I…” Cas rasped. “I don’t know what to do!” At this point he was panting heavily and his eyes were as big as saucers. He rolled onto his back and stared up to the ceiling.

“Cas, I’m sorry! I just assumed…” Dean trailed off. _How did I get that so wrong?_ He rolled up on his side and leaned over Cas, placing a hand against the angel’s chest. _Crap, how could I be so stupid?_ he thought. Dean’s voice filled with remorse. “Please forgive me, Cas. Just tell me what I did wrong,” he pleaded.

Cas looked up at Dean and smiled weakly. “Dean, I want to connect with you in a way you would appreciate, so you could really feel the bond I feel between us. But I can’t help thinking that I shouldn’t need more than kissing you.”

“Oh,” Dean replied. He was a little confused by that, but being confused by Cas’ reactions to human things was fairly par for the course. “Okay. But you know, it’s perfectly fine to want something and get it, Cas, rather than just need it. I mean sex is natural and awesome, and you’re in a human body.”

“Dean, feeling your breath mixing with mine and holding you close is so satisfying,” Cas said. “But being intimate in this body, it’s like it responds instinctively. It scares me. I’m used to being in more control.”

Dean let a small smile cross his lips. “Say that again, Cas.”

Cas chuckled and reached up to rub the palm of his hand against Dean’s cheek. “I’m used to being in control, Dean,” he said deeply, and Dean couldn’t describe what that voice did to him. Then Cas lifted one of Dean’s hands off his chest and kissed its palm. “I think you should know that for once I’m not the virgin in the room,” he added with a smile. He watched Dean’s expression turn from shock to amazement. “Its 8:15,” he added. “You’ll need about 45 minutes to get ready. I’ll get Sam’s hairdryer while you’re in the shower.”


	3. Awkward as Hell

Dean stepped into the shower, letting the hot water run down his body. Steam surrounded him, further loosening muscles that were already quite relaxed. He worked the shampoo Cas had brought him into his scalp and through his hair. _Re-hymenated_ , he smiled. _Who would have thought?_ Candy obviously wanted there to be no question about whether he had followed the rules. 

Dean rinsed out the shampoo and squeezed conditioner in his hand, squinting at the bottle. _Why do these things always smell like food?_ he wondered. Apples and walnuts. _What am I, a friggin salad?_ As he lathered up, he thought about his lack of female role models. Living with Lisa had taught him the most about the female condition. He loved all her little life hacks, particularly the hair towel turban thing. When she ran out of shaving cream, she would use shampoo. She used to put half of her meal in a to-go box as soon as food came to the table because she knew she wasn’t going to eat it all. Oh, and she wore the same dress slacks three times and the same blouse twice before washing them. Made sense when you weren’t being chased by monsters or fixing an engine.

He loved to watch Lisa enter a room. She knew how beautiful she was and always had an air of confidence that the people around her, men in particular, picked up on. When she walked, she seemed to elongate her stride but move just a bit slower than she needed to, which put a light swing to her hips. Dean rinsed the conditioner out of his hair and leaned against the shower wall. He wished he could call her, but obviously that was out of the question. It wasn’t that Dean missed her and wanted her back. He just felt so out of his element. It would be nice to get some pointers to make the next however-long-this-takes go as smoothly as possible. Like research for a hunt. Not that Cas wasn’t proving to be very knowledgeable, a thought that made Dean smile.

The only woman he could really call was Jody Mills. Since she knew about the crazy shit that Dean and Sam often got involved in, she probably wouldn’t be that freaked out by chick-Dean. Suddenly he felt the emptiness that loss always seemed to mark him with. He really missed Charlie right now. She would have told him everything he needed to know and a bunch of crap he wouldn’t have wanted to know. At which point he let one little word enter his consciousness and it gave him a serious mini heart attack. _Period_.

 _Crap_ , he thought. _This is ridiculous. I’m not going to be a woman that long, so stop it and man up._ This was going to be simple. They would find Candy and make her turn him back and if that didn’t work, he just had to figure out what he did to piss her off. Unless it wasn’t anything he did and she was just a bitch who hated guys. But thinking back, he hadn’t gotten that vibe from her. Really, he was the one who pursued her. Was that it? Stop hitting on women? It didn’t feel right. _Find Candy or figure out the lesson_ , he told himself. _Two days, three tops_.

Dean nailed the turban after only two tries, winning a smile from Cas who watched from the bathroom doorway. He stepped behind Dean and kissed his neck. “Dean, I don’t want to presume,” he said. “Is it acceptable for me to continue this level of affection once we leave the motel?”

Dean turned to face him, a big grin spreading across his face. “Cas,” he asked slyly, “do you wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” he smiled in return, searching Dean’s eyes for the real answer. “Obviously I wouldn’t do anything to interfere with your investigation, but perhaps I could stay with you at night? It _is_ a fairly large bed.”

Dean laughed and said “Dude, are you making jokes now?” He moved in closer and got a little more serious. “Yeah, of course you can stay. I’d like that. Although Sam will probably get the willies.” He paused, circling his arms around Cas’ hips. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you about once I’m back to normal. Honestly, that might take a while for me to figure out.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas agreed, kissing him deeply. Dean reached up to touch Cas’ hair, pressing his chest against the angel’s. Cas let his hands drop to Dean’s ass and gave a little squeeze, and Dean let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak. Cas chuckled low in his throat again and said, “I’ll leave you alone so you can finish getting ready.”

When they rejoined Sam at nine, Dean flashed his brother a sheepish grin. Sam shook his head at them both. It was easy to forget that this pretty woman was his brother, but working through the fact that “intercourse” or not, said brother just had some pretty satisfying sex with a million-year-old angel was an entirely different story. How long had _that_ been going on?

“Look, I gotta ask,” Sam began. “I get it. Two consenting adults…lovely lady parts…but did you actually not last 24 hours? Should we file the name change paperwork now, DeAnn?”

Before Dean could decide whether “righteous indignation” or “knock it off, perv” was the better response, Cas chimed in. “Sam, I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable, but I promise there was no intercourse. I think that’s enough to disclose, don’t you, Dean?”

Dean pulled up a chair and smiled at his brother, adding, “Knock it off, perv.”

Sam watched the two move around each other. They had always had a tendency to stand too close and look too long but now here they were, seated next to each other with their knees touching under the kitchenette table. The air between them seemed relaxed and comfortable, but more familiar, like they now shared a secret. “Who’s the perv?” he chuckled under his breath. "Hey, do you think this Candy is a deity?" he asked them both. "I mean who has this kind of mojo?” Dean had his arms folded across his chest and just shrugged. “Well it’s obvious you said or did something to set her off Dean,” Sam continued. “You said she wanted to teach you a lesson.”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, thinking about his actions in the bar, looking for the smoking gun. “I guess our best shot is to find this bitch and ask her,” he said pointedly. 

With that, they loaded into the Impala and headed over to the bar. Only half as many people were there compared to the night before, and the average age jumped up by about 11 years. _These must be the regulars_ , Dean thought. He scanned the room, looking for Candy or anyone else he recognized.

“See her?” Sam asked.

“Nah,” Dean scowled. “But that’s my bartender.” Dean strode over to the bar with Sam and Cas in tow.

“Hey there,” the bartender said, looking at Dean with a smile. The guy was under 30 with dark hair and eyes. “What can I get you?” he asked.

Dean opened his mouth, remembered his current, curvy predicament, and went for the charm. “Hey, darlin,” he smiled back, leaning forward just a bit so the bartender could catch a peek of what lay beyond the Led Zepplin logo. He let his voice sound a little sweeter. “I’m hoping you can help me.”

The bartender glanced down and back up quickly, a move not lost on Dean. “I’ll do my best,” he grinned and leaned a little forward himself. His eyes then shifted up and he took a noticeable step backwards, registering all 6’4” of Sam frowning protectively behind his brother. Dean glanced behind him to see what was causing the bartender’s retreat and shot Sam a quick look of annoyance.

“Uh, I was here last night for the first time with a friend of mine,” Dean started again, smiling at the bartender, “and this gal named Candy started talking us up. She’s about 5’6” with brown hair and eyes? Anyway, my friend says that she’s pretty sure Candy took her wallet.” The bartender leaned up straighter, not wanting to be involved in any criminal activity. “Now I know this has nothing to do with you, hon,” Dean cooed. “And I told my friend she probably just dropped it in the bar. Did anyone turn in a wallet?”

“Nah,” the bartender replied. “Last night was ladies’ night so we were packed, but no one turned anything in.”

“Thanks, darlin,” Dean purred. “Hey, do you know this Candy gal? Do you think she’ll be back tonight?”

“Sorry,” the bartender shrugged, “but a lot of brunettes come through here and I don’t know half of their names.”

Dean bit his lower lip for the guy’s benefit and shook his hair. “No, I guess it was a long shot. Wait! She picked up a guy right here at the bar! He was really cute – flannel shirt?” Dean heard Sam cough behind him and kicked back into a shin to shut him up. “I think they headed to a booth when my friend and I started playing pool with some college boys. Oh!” Dean lit up his eyes, “She was wearing a red blouse and a skirt.”

“I remember flannel-shirt guy,” the bartender said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the bar behind him. “That guy was sweet talking this chick before she even sat down. Then he was sharking her into a back booth and getting hammered as quick as possible. I was actually worried about her until she took him outside.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably as Sam and Cas now evaluated this new perspective on Dean’s behavior. “Right,” Dean replied. “Well do you think she’ll come back tonight? Have you seen her here before?”

“Yeah, now that I think about it,” the bartender answered. “She isn’t a regular, but she comes in about two or three times a month. I feel for her, though. She always seems to attract jerks.” With that he started wiping down the bar top again, signaling an end to the conversation.

Dean got the hint. “Well thanks, hon,” he said with a slight smile. “Say, Sam? Can you give this nice gentleman your card?” Sam removed an official-looking business card indicating he was Agent Sam Paige with the FBI and handed it over with a stern look. “Darlin, if you see Candy, will you please call my brother at this number?” Dean asked. “We don’t want any trouble, but if she’s hustling, Sam here wants to have a word with her.”

Dean placed his hand lightly on the bartender’s to still his movements and catch his eye. “I know you wouldn’t want any other ladies to be taken advantage of, right?” he added.

“Uh, no, of course not!” the bartender agreed, pocketing the business card. “Good luck,” he said to all three of them, returning to his duties.

Outside, Dean leaned against the Impala in frustration. “Well it sounds like she has an M.O.,” he said, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind his ear again. “Maybe this isn’t the only bar Candy trolls for ‘jerks’ to teach a lesson to.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, I agree. We might want to check out a few more to see if anyone recognizes her.”

“And what would that sound like, Sam?” Dean grumbled. “’Hey is there a brunette who comes in here a couple of times a month and leaves with guys who act like assholes?’ Doesn’t that sound like just about every hookup, ever? And I wasn’t an asshole, all right. I just don’t get it.” The group fell quiet as Dean stewed.

“Good use of your ‘assets’ by the way,” Sam smirked.

“Perhaps Dean should conduct all of our interviews with male subjects,” Cas added as they climbed into the car. “We could probably return the suit.”

\-------------------------------------

Although it was a long shot, they decided to hit up a few more bars in the area, just to see if they could be so lucky. Lower Downtown Denver hummed with activity in spite of the chilly night air. They ruled out the little dives and the big clubs, and instead aimed for places that were as similar to the one Dean went to last night as possible. Cas stared out the window from the back seat, watching people walk through LoDo. Some held hands or had their arms around each other to keep the cold at bay. Others were quietly and efficiently making their way to their destinations. Of course in this town, walking through snow flurries was no big deal.

Sam pointed out a place that fit the bill; the hardest part was finding a place to park. As they walked the four blocks back to the bar, Cas quietly slipped his fingers through Dean’s. He glanced Dean’s way and caught the small smile that settled on Dean’s lips. Sam felt Dean move slightly away from him and closer to Cas, and smiled as well.

Inside, and out of the cold, they quickly found a table and ordered some food. Sam’s face lit up as he noticed the gluten-free options. Thank God for big, progressive cities. Dean chose lasagna made of approximately 43 different cheeses. Cas spent the evening pushing calamari around his plate. At one point he popped one in his mouth and his facial expressions had both brothers cracking up.

“So what do we need to know about the case?” Dean asked in between mouthfuls.

Sam filled them in. The “case” was a string of disappearances at the Lumber Baron Inn, a landmark built in 1890 by John Mouat, a Scottish immigrant. Mouat, as the building’s name suggested, had amassed a fortune from the lumber industry. In fact, the Mouat Lumber Company helped transform Denver from a mining camp to the bustling city it is now. Unfortunately, by 1970 the once-proud home was reduced to a run-down tenement. That year, a 17-year-old runaway girl who was living in the building at the time was brutally raped and strangled to death. Her 18-year-old friend stumbled upon the murder and was shot dead by her friend’s killer.

From the details Sam was able to glean online, guests at the now bed and breakfast started disappearing about three months ago, specifically an older tourist from Iowa, a banker from Modesto, and a local couple who had booked a romantic weekend. One witness claimed to see two teens at the time of the second disappearance, so Sam had a good feeling that this might be a simple vengeful spirit situation. Just to be on the safe side, he set appointments for them to talk to the witness tomorrow morning and interview the staff tomorrow afternoon.

Dean stood and Sam watched as he made his way to the restroom. As soon as Dean was out of earshot, Sam immediately changed the topic of conversation. “Cas, I don’t want to pry, but seriously, what’s going on between you two?” he asked.

Cas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Sam, you are my good friend,” he started, “but I believe your question is better suited for your brother.”

Sam stared at Cas for a moment and huffed a little breath. “Look, I get it,” he said quietly. “There’s always been something between you guys. I just thought that honestly, Dean would never act on it. He’s too wound up in what he thinks he’s supposed to be, you know?”

Cas looked down at the small, fried circles on his plate and muttered, “So did I, Sam.” The memory of holding Dean’s hand outside made him smile, however that smile evaporated as he looked up into his friend’s concerned face.

Sam huffed again. “Um, it’s just that you guys have obviously taken things to the next level, and I have to think that the fact that he’s a chick now has something to do with it. Cas, I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

Cas frowned. “Sam, my feelings for Dean have nothing to do with whether he is male or female. I think his being a female has made our relationship easier on _him_ , for some reason.”

Sam noticed Dean heading back to the table, and then make a detour to talk to the bartender, a tall, lanky redhead with multiple piercings. He guessed Dean was turning on the charm and asking questions about Candy. The bartender handed Dean a beer and the two were obviously having a conversation. Nearby, a group of three men in their late-twenties gestured at Dean and moved a little closer. Sam unconsciously tensed. He almost missed Cas’ next words.

“But, uh, actually our first kiss happened before he changed.”

“What?” Sam asked, returning his attention to Cas. “I’m sorry, what?”

Cas was blushing slightly and looking nervously to the side. “I said our first kiss happened before he changed. Actually, right before he changed. I think it was the catalyst for his trip to the bar in the first place.”

“Ah,” Sam nodded, a few pieces of the puzzle starting to fit together. He looked for Dean again. The bartender had moved down to help a frizzy blond woman. One of the three guys was talking to Dean, standing a little too close. The other two stood to Dean’s left, pretending not to know them. One was about 225 pounds with a bulky build; he probably played football in college. The other was taller, with brown, curly hair and about 20 pounds on his friend. Sam frowned.

Cas noticed Sam’s expression and followed his gaze. Both men watched as the first guy leaned into Dean, gesturing like he couldn’t hear. Dean instinctively leaned closer, never seeing Curly Hair quickly drop something into his beer. Sam and Cas were on their feet immediately.

“DEAN!” Cas shouted, instantly behind Dean with his hand on the beer bottle just as Dean had reached for it himself. Dean turned into Cas with a look of confusion and mild surprise. Cas then wheeled on the man who had spiked Dean’s beer, blue eyes blazing, waving the bottle in his face. Dean’s confusion instantly turned to outrage as he pieced together what he had missed. He turned on the man who had been talking him up, in his face and yelling obscenities. Football Player had started crowding Cas, but then Sam was there, using his body to add space between the three.

“Out! Now!” Sam barked, flashing his FBI credentials and pushing the men towards the exit. Football Player and Curly Hair pushed back, so Sam gave them a peek at his handgun. As soon as they were in the alley, the decoy who had been talking to Dean bolted, his friends looking after him with a mix of envy and anger.

Dean put all 5’7” in Curly Hair’s face. Sam stood behind both of the strangers to keep them from running. “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Dean demanded. “What were you going to do? Drug me then rape me? Were you going to kill me too, you son of a bitch?!” Adrenaline was coursing through his body, and his stupid high voice betrayed him with a tremor. He wanted to punch this guy in the face so badly he was shaking.

“Look lady, I don’t know what your deal is.” Curly Head replied. “I’m no rapist and I’m not killing anyone. I can get laid any time I want. I don’t need to drug nobody!”

“So when I take this back to the lab it’s going to come back clean?” Sam asked accusingly, pointing at the bottle in Cas’ hand. “Cause both my partner and I saw you drop something into the lady’s drink.”

Football Player looked wildly between Sam, Cas and his friend and cracked. “Look it was Jerry’s plan, not ours,” he said. “Jerry took a shine to her and said we could all go party together, we just needed to get her in the mood. It was his pill.”

“Jerry, the douche who kept me from noticing you _drugging_ me?” Dean yelled.

“Look, this whole thing is a mistake,” Football Player offered, raising his hands. Curly Head was nodding and looking at his friend; he never saw Cas coming. Cas swung with an uppercut to the guy’s jaw that lifted him off his feet and threw him onto his back. He then wheeled on Football Player, who had started backing up defensively.

“No!” Dean shouted. Everyone froze and turned to face him. In one motion, Dean pivoted slightly and jammed his knee into Football Player’s crotch. The guy fell to his knees. “Think about that the next time Jerry wants you to slip a roofie in someone’s drink, asshole! See?” he gestured to Sam and Cas, “THAT’S an asshole!”

\------------------------------------------

Back at the motel, Dean made his way to the bathroom while Cas undressed and slipped under the covers in his boxers.

Dean splashed himself with water and contemplated how the evening could have ended. He looked sternly at the unfamiliar face in the mirror. What a rookie mistake. _Seriously, dude or chick, never take your eyes off your drink._ Dean knew better. He just wasn’t thinking that he was a target now that Candy had already jacked him. Of course, now that Candy had jacked him, he was a walking target. 

The bedside lamp cast a slice of soft yellow light into the room. Cas watched as Dean stripped to just the t-shirt and panties and slid in next to him. He draped an arm over the valley between Dean’s hip and chest and pulled him close, kissing that space where Dean’s neck met his back. Cas inhaled deeply, then in his gravelly voice said, “You smell like pie.”

Suddenly Dean was laughing loudly and Cas couldn’t help but laugh along with him, more out of relief than anything else. Dean rolled onto his back and looked into Cas’ eyes. “I know, right?” he said, catching his breath. “I’m like a friggin fruit cup over here!”

He smiled fondly at Cas, finding himself caught in those deep blue eyes. He reached up a hand and cupped Cas’ jaw, rubbing his thumb across the slight scruff there. He sighed, raising the other hand and using both to bring Cas’ lips to his own. He kissed the corners of Cas’ mouth, kissed each lip, then put his mouth around Cas’ chin, gently scraping the stubble there with his teeth.

Cas moaned lightly, and started kissing Dean’s cheeks and nose. He licked at Dean’s mouth so they could intertwine their tongues together, exploring and tasting. “Lower,” Dean smiled. So Cas kissed Dean’s chin and the length of his neck until he found that hollow spot where it met Dean’s chest.

“Lower,” Dean repeated. In reply, Cas lifted up the t-shirt and placed his lips around the nipple closest to him, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. Dean arched slightly and let out a sigh. Cas’ hand came up to gently massage the other breast, squeezing that nipple lightly and enjoying how Dean’s body twisted in response.

“You are so amazing, Dean” he hummed against Dean’s skin. He shifted, lowering his mouth to the breast in his hand so it wouldn’t feel excluded. He made circles around the nipple with his tongue before lightly grazing it with his teeth. Dean jumped. Cas smiled, placed his teeth over it and gnawed.

“Shit!” Dean gasped. He shook his head in wonder. “Dude, I thought I knew exactly who you were, and here you are surprising the crap out of me.” Then his hands were behind Cas’ head, fingers threaded in that silky, dark hair. He breathed heavily while Cas continued to devote attention to Dean’s sensitive skin, before whispering “lower” once more.

Cas was enjoying this game very much. He had wanted to be this close to Dean for so long – so many years. He was memorizing every reaction, heady from the heat of Dean’s body against his own. That heat felt like a physical connection; every cell of Cas’ mapping to its counterpart on Dean. He scooted down the bed along Dean’s side, his lips peppering kisses on Dean’s stomach, tongue licking in his belly button. He looked up, eyebrow arched and waiting for the familiar command. He wasn’t disappointed. Dean’s eyes were closed and his fingers were still massaging Cas’ scalp when the word came: “lower.”

Cas moved in between Den’s legs, slowly pulling the panties down and helping Dean out of them. He kissed the slight roundness of Dean’s lower belly, licking the hollow of his pelvis on the left and then the right. Cas nipped at the flesh, now understanding how much Dean enjoyed teeth on his most sensitive parts, and Dean moaned out loud. The anticipation was getting to him, though, and Cas’ heart was pounding hard. He lowered his mouth to hover over Dean and exhaled slowly so Dean could feel the heat from his breath. He looked up through his lashes and waited.

“You are unbelievable,” Dean whispered reverently. “Please, Cas?”

Cas smiled and licked Dean’s lips apart in a long stroke that started low and ended on his clit. The moan that tore from Dean was throaty and ragged. Cas continued with long strokes that dipped into the inner parts of Dean. He gently spread Dean’s legs, and then sucked on Dean’s clit like he had sucked on his nipple, flicking it with his tongue.

“Oh God, Cas!” Dean panted, feeling that familiar tug that had him arching up off the bed like his body was held together with a bow string. It was all hot, wet breath; and tongue; and pressure. It was _heaven_. Cas spent a few minutes rubbing his tongue right against Dean’s clit, feeling Dean’s body move with him, grind against his tongue. Dean was whispering to Cas, who could barely make out the small “yes”es just for him. Then Cas was lower, using those long strokes to pull a string of “Cas”es from Dean, each getting more insistent.

Dean’s hips were moving, lightly thrusting into Cas’ mouth, feeling fuller and fuller. Everything was winding up, every nerve sparking, and Dean was finding it hard to breathe. Then Cas’ lips were on his clit, sucking and pulling lightly, rubbing with his tongue. Dean’s hands grabbed fistfuls of sheets and his back arched up, hips pushing back into Cas. All Dean could think about was that hot wetness pulsing between his legs, that tongue pushing him closer to the edge of a cliff that he desperately wanted to stay on for as long as possible. He was looking down the fucking Grand Canyon and it was an impossible drop. But Cas’ tongue kept pushing him, licking and prodding.

“Oh yeah, Cas! Oh GOD!” and then Dean was falling, coming hard, arching and pushing into Cas. It felt so good. So amazing. And he realized he was saying these words out loud to Cas, praising him. He relaxed his grip on the sheets, chest still heaving as he came down, gasping in air. He reached down to pull Cas up to him, and Cas curled around his side, kissing his skin.

“Cas,” Dean panted. “I can do that to you. Please let me do that to you. It's amazing. Trust me. I think you need to feel it. Really _need_ to.”

Cas smiled broadly. “I get it, Dean. Just not now. Soon, I promise, but not right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **6/24/2015 - so this is my first time and I noticed a timeline issue, which I fixed today. Sorry for the boo boo!**


	4. Big Brother

Gold eyes blazed at him, and a throaty, female voice laughed cruelly, mocking. He was pinned down and confined, then caged. There was no door and the bars were only inches apart. He was panicking, helpless. Then the voice said “Nighty night” and he was plummeting, still trapped, with no end to the chasm in which he fell. Dean woke with a start.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas said quietly behind him in a soothing baritone. “You were dreaming.”

Dean blinked rapidly and wiped his hand down his face. He breathed in deeply to slow his heart beat and turned to face Cas. “Hey,” he replied.

Cas kissed his forehead and asked, “Do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“Anxiety dream, I think,” Dean answered. “I was trapped and then I was falling.” He sniffed. “I’m going to take a shower. Do you want to join me?”

“Yes.”

Dean turned on the water, making sure it was just under hot. They both stepped inside the tub, Cas moving towards the back again. Dean sighed as the water washed over his body, then rolled his head, slowly working the kinks out of his neck.

“Lean your head back,” Cas instructed, and Dean complied. He felt Cas’ fingers massage his scalp and smelled the light, fruity scent of the shampoo. He relaxed into the rhythmic movement. “Turn around,” Cas said. Eyes closed, Dean turned 180 degrees and dipped his head back until he felt the water against his scalp. Then Cas’ fingers were running through Dean’s long hair and squeezing the suds out, their chests brushing against each other. Dean sighed, keeping his eyes shut so he could concentrate on the peace that came from trusting, just doing what was asked of him.

“Turn back around,” Cas continued, and when Dean did, he could tell that Cas was now working in the conditioner. Then Cas’ touch was gone, but before he could miss it, he felt strong fingers sliding across his shoulders and down his back. Each of Cas’ hands slid down the back of each of Dean’s slender arms at the same time, caressing around the elbows and stretching until fingers interlaced. Cas drew his arms around Dean’s body and pulled him close.

“Dean,” Cas said softly, “do not be afraid. You’re safe. I am here.”

The words eased through Dean’s skin and into his tissues, organs and bone. And then even though he knew they were true, or because of it, Dean couldn’t stop the tears. Not sobs, just three tears. He allowed himself that. Then he inhaled deeply and did his best to compose himself, letting go of Cas’ hands so he could turn and face the angel in the shower with him.

Cas kissed the top of Dean’s head, then leaned back to look into his clear, green eyes. Cas smiled and suddenly Dean felt calmer, settled. “Cas,” Dean whispered, his eyes wide, “did you do that or did I?"

Cas merely nodded, understanding the question perfectly, and said “Yes.”

They finished the shower in a comfortable silence, exchanging smiles as they bathed each other. Once done and dry, Dean picked up his phone to see a text from Sam, reminding him of their 10:00 am appointment. It was 7:30 now, plenty of time to get dressed and find breakfast.

Dean had to admit that he looked damn good in the chick suit; it was nice to not have to put on a tie for once. His customary starched, white button-down had been replaced with a more feminine version made of light-weight fabric that actually moved. The charcoal suit was cut to flatter, with a cropped jacket that rested above his hips and slacks that fit through the seat, then gracefully fell to break across the top of his foot.

Unfortunately, he was cursing within five minutes of putting on the heels. “Dammit these things pinch,” he grumbled. He walked around the motel room, realized that he was leaning forward, and then overcompensated by leaning so far back that his boobs were in the air.

“Perfect,” Sam said. “You look like you’ve got a steel rod up your butt.”

Dean responded by flipping him off.

“What Sam means is that you are leaning back too far,” Cas soothed, shooting the taller brother a pointed look. “Try tilting back at the hips, not from your chest.”

“This sucks ass,” Dean complained.

“Dude, get over it,” Sam countered with a look of exasperation. “Millions of women do this every day of their lives. I think you can handle it.”

Dean gave Sam a death stare but tried again, keeping his mouth shut. “Let’s just go,” he grumbled in frustration. “The only thing that will save this morning is bacon.”

They settled on a Village Inn. As Sam watched Dean navigate through the parking lot, walking carefully to avoid cracks in the asphalt and keep his feet in his shoes, he reminded himself about all of the things his brother had been through in the last two days. “Hey,” he called, catching up to Dean and steering them both out of the way of a family with two young girls, “I’m sorry about the attitude before.”

Dean looked up at Sam in surprise, and then gave his brother a grin. “It’s okay, Sammy. I deserved it.”

“Not really, dude,” Sam smiled back. “Hey can I ask you something,” he turned to see Cas smiling down on a couple of seniors as he held the door for them. “Uh, in private?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “Hey Cas, you’re not gonna eat are ya?”

Cas looked up and shook his head.

Dean walked to Cas’ side, slipping his fingers into Cas’ hand. “Hey, would you mind if Sam and I talked for a bit?”

Cas looked up at Sam then back at Dean and smiled. “Not at all. Shall I meet you at 10:00?”

“That would be great,” Dean answered, tipping his head back slightly to request a kiss that Cas happily provided. Cas started walking back to the car until he simply wasn’t there anymore.

Seventeen minutes later, Dean was moaning around a piece of bacon. “Oh man, this makes it all better,” he said.

Sam shook his head at him over his omelet. “You seem like such a nice girl and then you open your mouth…” he teased.

Dean glared but didn’t mean it. “So shoot, Sam. What’s up?” he asked. He was trying to be mindful of the new suit and his new shelf, which had started attracting all manner of toast crumbs. He wondered if he should get a bib.

“Uh, so Cas, huh?” Sam asked, not quite sure which question to start with.

Dean looked at his little brother hard, and then realized that there was no judgement in his voice. He softened a little and shrugged. “Yeah,” he smiled.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he blurted out, putting his fork down and leaning closer across the table. “But what the hell is he doing to you? Because I can hear most of it and I swear to God, if I didn’t know it was you, I would think you were watching Casa Erotica over there.”

“I know, right?!” Dean grinned, looking around like he was protecting nuclear launch codes. “The little dude is friggin fantastic in the sack and we’re not even actually screwing.”

“He’s only been with one other woman, right?” Sam asked.

“Well, what he lacks in practical experience, he makes up for with some pretty amazing book smarts.” Dean explained, carefully squirting ketchup on his hash browns. “Seriously, I don’t know _how_ he knows to do what he’s doing to me, but I am so glad that he does!” Dean squinted at his brother and shook his fork at him. “Dude, you gotta know, this shit is _intense_. I mean you wonder why chicks make the noises they do until they’re coming out of _your_ mouth and you can’t control it.”

“Hmm,” Sam mused. “It’s that different, huh?”

“Sam, it’s that different. Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” Sam said, sipping his coffee.

Dean paused. “I really wish we could do it,” he admitted.

Sam arched his eyebrow at his brother and said nothing.

“I mean, don’t you want to know what that feels like?” he asked.

“Purely for science, Dean?” Sam joked.

Dean thought about this morning in the shower and looked seriously at his brother.

“What?” Sam laughed.

He took a deep breath. “No,” he confessed, pushing scrambled eggs around his plate. He paused, and then looked directly at Sam. “Look, when Cas found me in Hell, I was 40 years into it. I was barely me anymore.”

Sam’s face fell. He looked at Dean with concern but said nothing, letting him talk.

“He didn’t just haul my ass out, Sam,” Dean continued. “He put me back together. He made me human again. And I never really thanked him for that, you know? I never really wanted to admit what he did for me. Too many feelings.” He smiled awkwardly at his bacon. “But for some reason, two days ago, I decided to try, and I let him in and now it’s like all those feelings are back.” Dean waited for the ribbing to start, but was met with silence.

He looked up again. “Sam, I think he can change how I feel,” Dean whispered, “like not just read my mind but send emotions to me.” He could tell his eyes were getting a little wet. “Um, I wasn’t doing too hot this morning and he uh, said the right things, you know, and then looked me in the eyes and like _willed_ me to feel safe and peaceful and I did. In my _bones_ , I felt it.” Dean exhaled, remembering the sensation. “Sometimes he smells like summer…” he added wistfully.

“Sounds pretty ‘profound,’" Sam said quietly, thinking to himself, _if my brother can’t figure this out, he’s the biggest idiot in the world._

\--------------------------------------------------------------

At 10:00 am Dean, Sam and Cas sat awkwardly around Gwen Hudgins’ dinner table, sipping ice water laced with cucumber and mint. Gwen was in her late 50s, trim and petite. She fidgeted, subconsciously touching her ash blond curls, uneasy with so many people in her little kitchen. She sighed and straightened her blouse.

“Please tell us exactly what you saw,” Sam prodded gently.

“I don’t know anymore,” she said quietly to herself, then looked up into the three strange faces in front of her. “I don’t know,” she repeated.

“Gwen,” Dean started, “We understand how you’re feeling. We talk to a lot of people in your situation, people who have seen something that maybe they didn’t really understand at the time. Then they spend days or months even convincing themselves that it was a trick of the lights or they were tired. We just want to know everything that happened the night Mr. Largent disappeared, no matter how strange or unusual.”

Gwen looked at Dean, trying to decide if he was telling the truth, then shook her head and said, “What the hell. Look, I was sitting in the garden behind the Inn on a bench. It was about 7:00 pm but still plenty of light out. There’s a gazebo about 30 yards away from me, and I see something move over there, so it gets my attention.” She was rushing now, just trying to get it all over with. “I squint, you know, to make it out, because it’s not that far away but it’s like, fuzzy? I thought, _I need to get new glasses_. And then there’s two shapes and one turns and I can see it’s a girl, but she’s wearing a mini dress from like the ‘60s or ‘70s, and I thought, _that’s weird_.”

She paused, taking a deep breath and then started in again. “Then the other shape is gone and it’s just the girl. And then there’s another girl standing right in front of me, but this one has dark hair where the mini dress girl has light hair. And then…” Gwen stopped, her eyes wide. She glanced up and caught Cas watching her, his brows knitted as he tried to keep up with the conversation. She looked imploringly at Dean and whispered, “And then she reached out like she was going to touch me, and I notice she has a hole, in her chest.” A single tear flowed down Gwen’s cheek. “I was never so scared in my life.”

“Ms. Hudgins,” Sam said quietly, “Did the girl hurt you? Did she say anything to you?”

She looked at Sam, relieved. “No! She didn’t hurt me at all, she just looked so sad. She reached out to me and looked right through me. I don’t know if she even saw me, to be honest. The poor dear.”

Dean looked at Sam then back to Gwen. “And where was Mr. Largent?”

“George?” she asked. “He was at dinner.”

“Inside the Inn,” Dean prompted.

“No, he and a few of the other guests went Downtown," Gwen corrected him. "Some Brazilian place where you eat a ton of meat. They had a coupon.”

\---------------------------------------

The Lumber Baron Inn looked regal and inviting, a beautiful example of Queen Anne architecture three stories tall. Over 8,500 square feet of cherry, oak, poplar, sycamore, and maple looked down on the rest of Denver. From the hand-carved rosettes in the dining room to the exquisite maple floor in the third-floor ballroom, it was a tribute to the lumber industry itself, the builders who constructed it, and the incredible effort made to painstakingly restore it.

They were shown into the front parlor, where ornate display cases housed photos, memorabilia and narrative that captured the Inn during its famous existence. Dean peered at pictures of Mouat standing with his family on the front porch, a small wooden box under his arm. The same wooden box was also on display with a note describing how the mogul had hand-carried this family heirloom with him from Scotland. Sam was studying the front page of the Denver Post, dated 1970, which detailed the murders and featured a photo of the back of the property where the bodies were found. Graffiti littered the lower level and trash was strewn through what had been the garden. A huge bramble hedge was visible on the eastern edge of the lot line, and the gazebo was barely standing. Room air conditioners looked like ugly pimples, scarring the home’s beautiful lines.

Not surprisingly, an entire panel and a half contained before, during and after photos of the renovation process. Numerous people spent years to bring the home back to its former glory; according to the display, the efforts were still ongoing. However the Inn was fully operational, hosting weddings in the garden, murder mystery weekends to celebrate its haunted heritage, and overnight guests.

General Manager Paula Crawford sat down with them in the catering office, i.e. the industrial kitchen. She handed her business card to Sam, Dean and Cas, the latter handing his to Dean for safekeeping.

“How can I help you all today?” she asked with a smile.

“Ms. Crawford, thank you for seeing us,” Dean began. “We wanted to visit with you briefly about the three guests who went missing over the last few months: George Largent of Modesto, California; Nick Zimmer of Ankeny, Iowa; and Janet and Bob Garcia from Colorado Springs.”

“Of course,” she replied earnestly.

“Well let’s start with George,” Dean continued. “Anything out of the ordinary happen leading up to his disappearance?”

“No,” Paula said, shaking her head. “He was a fairly nice fellow. He stayed with us for two nights. He came into town to meet some friends of his for a local poker tournament. We really didn’t see much of him.”

“Okay, what can you tell us about the day he disappeared?” Dean asked. “When was the last time someone saw him?”

“I think I was the last person to see him, actually,” she admitted.

“Really?” Sam chimed in. “When was that?”

“It was around 6:00 in the evening on a Friday. That was early last month,” she added. “He was at the tournament in the morning but was eliminated. He was very sore about that. He and another gentleman had coupons for Rodizio Grill, so they asked me to call them a cab. The friend came back, but George never did.”

“Okay,” Dean confirmed, thinking through Paula’s statement. “Let’s move on to Nick.”

“Well Nick was a lying, S.O.B. redneck,” Paula said matter-of-factually.

“What?” Dean and Sam demanded in unison. Cas had been studying the cover of a cookbook. He looked up at the two and then Paula, realizing he had missed something.

“Well, he most certainly was,” she affirmed as if talking about the weather. “He drove a semi and parked it on the street right in front of the Inn. I asked him to move it, and he told me that Denver city ordinance allowed 18-wheelers to park on side streets for 48 hours, which is absolutely not the case. He was rude to our staff and rude to our other guests. In fact, on the day he disappeared he had been verbally abusive to one of our hospitality specialists, and I asked him to find other accommodations in the morning. He left, then never came back.”

“How did you know that he disappeared rather than just left for another hotel?” Sam asked.

“Why his truck, of course,” she explained pleasantly. “It was still here until we had it towed. That was the end of February.”

“All right, then,” Dean smiled. “What about our last folks, Janet and Bob Garcia?” This was going nowhere; Dean had a feeling they were missing something important.

“Well dear,” Paula conceded, “they were a real shame.”

Dean looked intrigued. “Why do you say that, Ms. Crawford?”

“They were here for a weekend getaway; locals up from Colorado Springs,” she explained. “It was their first weekend away from the baby. Janet was preoccupied, to say the least. We kept seeing her on the phone, talking to her mother, who was watching the little thing. Bob, on the other hand, was constantly grumbling about Janet not enjoying the weekend and how expensive it was to be here. He wasn’t very...” she searched for the right word, “subtle about it.”

“What was their last day like?” Sam inquired.

Paula sighed. “Bob had finally convinced Janet that they should go have fun, so they bought tickets for Restaurant Week and headed Downtown for dinner. The poor dears never came back and we had no idea which restaurant they used the passes to visit.”

“So none of the missing guests actually disappeared from the grounds,” Cas recapped, his deep voice startling Paula, who had quite honestly forgotten he was there.

“That’s very true,” she confirmed.

“Ms. Crawford, we talked to Gwen Hudgins this morning,” Sam said.

“Yes, Gwen had quite a scare here during her stay,” Paula nodded.

“Well I was curious about other folks having similar experiences?” Sam pressed.

“Certainly, dear,” Paula said. “The Inn’s haunted past is part of its allure.”

“Do you recall any other ‘similar experiences’ around the times that Nick and Janet and Bob went missing?” Dean asked.

“Hmmm,” Paula mused, rubbing her ear absentmindedly. “I can’t be sure about an exact correlation, but I would say that staff has encountered those two poor girls’ ghosts more often this year than in the past.”

The brothers looked at each other, and then stood. “Ms. Crawford, we so appreciate your time,” Dean said, offering his hand to Paula who shook it lightly and smiled into Dean’s eyes.

“Of course, dear,” she said. “Please know that our guests’ safety is our primary concern.”

Outside, Sam was the first to talk. “I’m thinking this is just a bunch of random coincidences, really,” he hypothesized, as they headed to the Impala.

“I’m not so sure,” Dean countered. “You heard her say that the ghosts’ activities have increased this year. She may not have been looking for a link there.”

“True, Dean, but the disappearances may not be tied to the Lumber Baron Inn at all,” Cas objected. “I wonder how many people go missing in Denver in a given year.”

“Well I say we burn the bones anyway, just to be on the safe side,” Dean said, leaning against the car and slipping out of his shoes. “Sam, will you drive? My dogs are barkin’.”

\---------------------------------------------------

Dean and Sam changed out of their suits in preparation for the evening’s activities. Dean went out to get some food while Sam started up his laptop. He had discovered where both girls were buried as well as the exact location of their graves within an hour and a half; at a little after 8:00 pm, they headed out to the car.

As Sam reached the Impala, he looked up and was stunned by his surroundings. Sundown behind the Rocky Mountains was a spectacular oil painting of oranges, pinks and lilacs that swirled around and through darkening clouds. He stood in awe, feeling like he had caught a glimpse of something magical. The air temperature had dropped to 49 degrees, but the shiver he felt probably had nothing to do with it. He glanced over at Cas, who was also gazing at the evening sky. A huge smile lit up his face, and Sam guessed he was appreciating the painter as well as the canvas.

Everything started out going to plan. Cas had cleared away the dirt on both graves with a wave of his hand. They were ambushed, however, just as Sam leaned in to open a coffin lid. Instinctively, Sam pushed Dean out of the way, causing him to trip and hit his hip hard on a low grave marker. Sam then raised his shotgun and fired at both ghosts, scattering their images.

“What the hell, Sam?!” Dean demanded, scrambling to his feet. He ignored the shooting pain and hopped into one of the graves, busting the coffin lid open using the butt of his shotgun.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam yelled back, furiously pulling at the other coffin before the ghosts returned.

Dean had climbed out and was reaching into the duffel bag for the gasoline when he heard Cas shout his name. He wheeled in his boots to see the dark-haired girl Gwen had described reaching out to him. He quickly raised his shotgun and hit the ghost point-blank with salt rounds, sending it into the ether.

“Hurry it up, Sammy,” Dean warned, squirting the flammable liquid into the splintered wood. He flicked the lighter three times before it caught, and then threw it into the hole.

“Shit!” Sam cursed, finally getting the lid free. Suddenly the ghost in the mini dress was above him, her eyes large and empty, hands recreating her death by squeezing Sam’s neck hard. Cas swung a tire iron through her and she vanished, leaving Sam gasping for breath. He shot Cas a look of panic and thanks, then hoisted himself out of the grave. Dean was right beside him, squirting gasoline and lighting the coffin up.

\------------------------------------------------

Back in his room, Dean gingerly took off his jeans. He pulled down his panties to check out the bruise. Purples and blacks had come together on the curve of his hip.

“I can heal that for you easily, Dean,” Cas offered.

“Really, Cas, it’s no big deal. Just a couple of ibuprofen and I’ll be fine. It’s not like I need stitches or anything.” Dean grabbed a bottle of pain killers out of his bag and swallowed three pills without any water.

He walked over to where Cas sat on the edge of the bed and looked down into that concerned face, feeling a warmth in his chest and a new emotion: longing. It would be stupid to not admit that Cas was stunning. Not just Jimmy, who made Cas on the outside physically attractive with his dark hair and incredibly blue eyes, but Castiel himself. The angelic presence the size of the Chrysler Building that radiated through Jimmy. The Castiel who had healed him, died for him, saved him, and certainly loved him. Dean didn’t understand how he deserved any of this.

He smiled at Cas, then slowly crawled onto his lap, straddling him so he could look straight through Jimmy, to Castiel himself. He looked into Cas’ eyes and saw universes and night skies filled with constellations. “I think I see you in there, Cas,” he whispered. “I spent too much time thinking you were Jimmy. But I’m starting to figure it out.”

A look of utter adoration and hope bloomed on Cas’ face. He gathered Dean close to him, leaning his head against Dean’s chest. He sighed deeply and had a sudden desire to press every square inch of Dean against himself. He slowly pulled Dean’s shirt off and unhooked the white lace bra. Dean loosened the tie and slipped it over Cas’ head, then slid the white shirt off his shoulders. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, scooting him close so chest touched chest, arms touched backs, shoulders touched shoulders, and foreheads met.

Dean closed his eyes and imagined being completely surrounded by an immense presence, cocooned in white. And then he imagined wings surrounding them both, so soft against his back. He breathed deeply and smelled warm July afternoons and homemade ice cream. “How did I get you?” he asked, his voice breaking and tears welling up in his eyes. “I don’t deserve this, Cas,” he whispered. “Someone will figure out that I don’t deserve this and they’ll take you away from me.”

“Dean, you deserve it all,” Cas calmly replied, voice deep and steady, thumbs wiping the tears from Dean’s cheeks. “Do not be afraid,” he repeated from that morning. “You’re safe. I am here.”

Dean leaned back and thought he felt the feathers rustle. He searched those constellations, then kissed Cas passionately, wanting suddenly only to merge, to feel Cas radiate through him. The longing took over and it broke his heart. He sobbed, and Cas pulled back, concerned. “I want you so much,” Dean whispered, the need written plainly on his face. “I don’t care if I’m a turtle for the rest of my life, Cas. I don’t know what to do.”

“Dean,” Cas soothed, rocking them together ever so slightly. “It’s okay. We have plenty of time.”

“Please let me…” Dean didn’t know how to finish his sentence. He just wanted to give Cas something. Anything. If he just knew what Cas wanted. “What can I…” he tried again. He looked imploringly into Cas’ eyes. “Anything?”

What Cas wanted was evident, even if Dean couldn’t see it. Cas wanted Dean. He wanted Dean happy and safe. He didn’t want anything other than his smile and to look at him like he just had. He would gladly give Dean anything and everything he could. So he did. “Touch me,” he said, and Dean was so grateful he could have burst.

Dean tentatively ground his hips into Cas’ lap and it sent a slight shudder down Cas’ spine. He kept going, slowly moving against Cas and kissing him, breathing him in. Cas felt his body reacting to the heat and pressure coming off Dean’s crotch, and there was nothing he could do. He shifted back onto the bead and opened his legs so Dean could sit between them. Then he cupped Dean’s ass and pulled him as close to his hardening cock as he could. They both moaned and Dean curled his legs around Cas’ backside. Cas continued to rock Dean against him, suddenly thankful for the clothes that kept them apart.

Dean was positive he could get off like this. In fact the thought of it made him wet and his heart started racing. “Cas, don’t stop, please,” he begged, and Cas understood. He continued moving Dean against him, not caring about the discomfort that the friction caused him. Dean felt himself let go, allowing Cas to move him however he wanted, imagining the pants gone and then the boxers gone, and finally his little silk panties gone until it was Cas there. Cas’ cock sliding through his wet lips, then Cas easing into him, filling him up. In Dean’s mind, Cas was rocking deeply into him in a steady, constant movement that gathered momentum, needed to be…

“Faster,” he whispered, and Cas was there, with those hands on his ass and that steady thrusting like the tide. Dean was chasing those waves, just behind them, almost there, and then he was crashing against Cas, head back, chest heaving and crying out. It felt like an eternity and yet was over too soon. His body hummed. He couldn’t believe he could do that with mind. Well his mind and Cas’ incredibly hard erection. Which made Dean smile. He straightened up and kissed Cas. “Let’s get you out of those pants, sailor,” he teased.

Cas’ face showed his apprehension, and Dean looked him in the eye. “Listen,” he said. “I get being afraid of the unknown. But Cas, I am going to rock your world. Please let me do this for you.” Cas just nodded and stood up, dropping his pants and boxers to the floor.

And then Dean realized exactly what he was offering. He gave a little huff and looked at it, thinking, _It’s not going to bite you, Dean_. He reached out and curled his fingers around it and Cas literally shook. That’s all it took and Dean was back in the game. He smiled to himself, remembering the first time Jenny Sandler had wrapped her beautiful little mouth around his dick and he thought the back of his head was going to blow off. Now he was going to give that gift to Cas.

Dean sat Cas up against the head of the bed and slid his legs apart so he could crouch between them. He felt sorry for Sam, because he had no doubt that he was getting an earful tonight. Dean placed a hand on each of Cas’ thighs and looked up into his eyes, smiling. “Just breathe, Cas,” he said lightly, “and try not to choke me.” Cas nodded, then leaned his head back against the wall.

Leaning in close, Dean closed his eyes and licked up Cas’ cock from the base to the tip. Cas moaned loudly and Dean couldn’t help but smile. Dean did it again and again, moving around him slightly, tasting the salty liquid that had already made its escape at the very top. Then he opened his mouth and slowly lowered it over and down Cas’ cock, feeling the angel’s thighs shake under his hands and a long “Ohhhhhh,” pull out of him. Dean kept raising and lowering his mouth around Cas, taking as much as he could and trying to remember to breathe himself.

Dean continued but Cas was gone. Completely gone. He couldn’t feel his toes anymore. He had never even imagined what this would feel like and now that the most sensitive part of his anatomy was surrounded by Dean’s hot, wet mouth, moving up and down, he felt like he was flying. “Dean!” he cried out, not realizing how loud his voice was. Dean squeezed a thigh in response, and then bobbed up and down on the head of Cas’ cock three or four times before taking him all the way down. “DEAN!” he yelled, panting, eyes wide.

Dean could feel Cas’ body start to thrust ever so slightly into him, so he pressed down on Cas’ thighs to still him. And then as punishment, he wrapped one small hand around the base of Cas’ cock and slid it up to meet his lips, then down and back up again. He lifted his mouth off Cas and continued to stroke him, taking a second to look at the results of his hard work. Cas had a thin layer of sweat on his chest, which was heaving and flushed. His mouth was slack, eyes open and he was looking at Dean, incredulous and shocked.

Dean smiled at him and said “ready?” Cas just nodded, not knowing what he was supposed to be ready for. Dean stroked down with his hand, put his mouth back around Cas’ tip and slipped his other hand down to gently squeeze Cas’ balls. Cas groaned out loud and smacked his palm against the wall to brace himself. Dean sucked him, cupped him lightly and returned his other hand to the top of Cas’ cock so his lips could push his fist down over the head.

That sent Cas directly over the edge. “Dean! Dean! YES!” he screamed, his back arching up. Dean pulled back a little as he felt the hot, salty cum cover his tongue and slide down his throat. He swallowed several times, trying not to panic, then lifted his mouth slowly off Cas and sat back on his heels. 

Cas was coming down, breath slowing, and he looked at Dean with a huge grin. “See?” Dean admonished. “And you thought you only needed kissing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://lumberbaron.com/history/  
> http://www.legendsofamerica.com/co-lumberbaron.html


	5. Inside the Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plot and fluff

Sam could barely keep a straight face when Dean and Cas walked into his motel room the next morning. He started chuckling when the pretty brunette flashed him Dean’s “I just got laid” look, complete with dancing eyebrows and smirk. Then Dean put out his fist and Sam laughed out loud.

Cas watched them both quizzically, then had the grace to blush and inspect his shoes.

“Sorry, Cas,” Sam said, composing himself. “I’m glad you, uh, had a good evening.”

Cas seemed obviously uncomfortable, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you, Sam,” he said hesitantly.

Dean laughed and put his arm around Cas’ waist. “Hey, we’re not making fun of you,” he said kindly. “I think Sam and I are both happy that you, uh, got to enjoy something we humans think is pretty awesome. It’s like you joined the club.”

“But Dean, that was not the first time that I…”

“I know, Cas, I know,” Dean interrupted him, if just to keep the angel from saying “orgasm” out loud. “We’re still happy for you. I’m happy,” he added. He looked at Cas with affection.

Cas read the honesty in Dean’s face and smiled. He brought one of Dean’s hands up to his mouth and kissed it. It was such a tender gesture; Dean flushed bright red as he realized that Sam had seen it too.

The other brother cleared his throat loudly. “Looks like congratulations all around, huh?” he said playfully.

Dean’s phone rang in his pocket. He looked at the screen, not recognizing the number. “Yes?” he answered. “Hello Ms. Crawford,” he said, looking at Sam and Cas. He was quiet for a while as the General Manager spoke. “Thank you for letting us know. Hang on a sec while I get something to write with.” He looked to Sam who handed him a pen and his spiral notebook. “Go ahead,” Dean said, hastily jotting down a street address. “Thank you, again,” he said, hanging up.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“Good news, for once,” Dean sighed. “Seems our missing new parents turned up. They’re back home.”

______________________________________

It took them an hour and a half to get to the Garcias, who lived in a suburban home on the north part of Colorado Springs. Their tan, two-story house looked like the ones to the left and the right of it, with one tree in the front patch of grass and a minivan in the driveway.

Janet opened the door for them, dark circles under her eyes and a baby on her shoulder. She led them into the living room where her husband sat reading in a brown recliner. Bob looked up and tried a smile. He placed a bookmark on his page, closed the book and placed it on an oval coffee table in front of him. Sam noticed it was a bible. Cas looked at Bob with interest, trying to determine if his reading material brought him any comfort.

“Mr. Garcia,” Dean said with a kind smile, “Thank you for seeing us on short notice today.” Bob just nodded. It seemed to Dean that the man was at peace, yet tired. “Would you mind sharing with us what happened to you while you and your wife were staying at the Lumber Baron Inn?”

Bob gazed intently at Janet, who lightly bounced their son against her and held his eyes. He turned to the three on the couch and exhaled heavily, as though remembering the ordeal. “Ah, Janet and I went to Denver for a weekend away and we were abducted by a couple of big bikers. They took all our money and kept us locked up in a basement for the last month and a half. They called my parents to get ransom. My parents paid them and they released us. We are very happy and blessed to be home.”

Sam blinked. _Bikers?_ He thought. _They’re missing for a month and a half and the story is bikers? I believe that about as much as Bigfoot._

Dean wasn’t as successful at hiding his disbelief. “Bikers kept both of you in a basement for a month and a half?” he questioned. “That seems so…unusual.”

Bob glanced at Janet again and replied, “Well it took that long for my parents to come up with the ransom.”

“It must have been terrible for you both,” Cas suggested, “particularly for Mrs. Garcia. Being away from a newborn would have been particularly emotional.”

Janet looked down, then back at her husband. She smiled weakly at Cas and nodded.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. Good thing these folks didn’t go to Denver for the poker tournament because they were so bad at lying he was starting to get irritated. He shot Sam a _what-the-hell-is-going-on-here_ look. It was obvious that Bob had come up with a patently ridiculous story and Janet was going to say as little as possible. So Dean decided to push, because the Garcias were definitely hiding something.

“Bob, Ms. Crawford told us that you and Janet had purchased tickets to Restaurant Week,” he tried. “Were you abducted from a restaurant? How did it happen?”

Mr. Garcia shifted slightly in his recliner then looked from Dean to Sam, addressing the latter. Dean frowned slightly. “We went to Tamayo for dinner,” Bob answered. “It was really good and we had a good time. Then we walked to a bar. That’s where we were abducted.” His face looked pale.

“What happened at the bar?” Dean tried again, and again Bob looked at Sam. “We ordered drinks. I may have had too much.” Bob looked at his hands, guilt lacing his voice. “I remember I was at the bar for a while. I, uh, hit on this girl.”

Bob looked up, face red and embarrassed. He couldn’t look at Dean at all, only Sam. That’s when Dean got it: he reminded Bob of the woman he had hit on in the bar. Bob straightened and said “I guess she figured out I was married and she got really mad. She tricked me into going outside with her.” Bob’s demeanor changed slightly. “Uh, that’s when her big biker boyfriend showed up. They threw us in a van because of me. They kept us in a basement because of me. It’s my fault.” Then he looked earnestly at Janet and back to Dean. “But I’ve learned my lesson. I will never do anything like that ever again. Never put us through something like that again…”

The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stood up and he swallowed, hard. He was on his feet instantly. Sam followed, although surprised by his brother’s reaction.

“Bob,” Dean said, with an edge to his voice, “we will talk again soon. Thank you.” He hesitated at the front door and turned around to face the couple who looked relieved to see the three leaving. “Bob, what was the name of the bar?”

“What?” Bob asked.

“The bar, Bob,” Dean repeated sternly. “What was the name of the bar?”

“Cristo’s,” Bob replied.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas asked as soon as they cleared the driveway.

“In the car,” Dean said through gritted teeth. He was spooked and pissed but absolutely positive that Bob was lying straight through his teeth about most of that story. He turned to face Cas and Sam. “Bob was lying,” he snapped.

“Of course he was lying, Dean,” Sam agreed.

“Well, he wasn’t lying about one thing. He hit on a woman who got pissed at him because she figured out he was married,” Dean said heatedly. “She took him outside, and then something happened and they couldn’t come home for a month and a half. But _now_ ,” he added, “Bob has learned his lesson and he and his family are fine.”

“Crap,” Cas said from the backseat.

Dean stopped and both he and Sam stared dumbfounded at Cas. Then Dean smiled at him.

“It was Candy, Sam.” Cas explained. “Candy taught Bob a lesson.”

Sam shook his head. “Let’s find out if our missing redneck and the gambler went to Cristo’s too.”

\-----------------------------------------------

The trio headed back up to Denver. It felt great to finally get a line on Candy, and Dean was filled with nervous excitement. The Rocky Mountains stretched to his left, daring him to a race. Dean felt a small squeeze on his shoulder and smiled with the reassurance of it. Then he noticed his speedometer was about to graze 95. He exhaled and let up on the accelerator.

They stopped for burgers and fries at Gunther Toody’s, a nostalgic ‘50s diner off I25, then continued up to the Lumber Baron Inn. Paula met them in the parlor.

“If you don’t mind, can we talk in the garden?” she asked, walking them out through the glass double doors. “I need to check on the gazebo. It should be getting a good scraping and putty today.”

The Lumber Barron Inn’s garden was just waking up. Autumn-colored chrysanthemums lined brick patios. Trellised roses were beginning to bud. Luscious red tulips and bright yellow daffodils stretched upwards, faces eager for sun. Workers were putting together pots of lilacs and asters. It was easy to envision summer weddings here under blue Colorado skies.

Sam admired the setting. He slowly did a 360-degree turn, getting a feel for the scope of the grounds. He noticed the bench Gwen must have been sitting on when she saw the ghosts. Behind him, Dean and Cas walked a little too close to each other, trying not to hold hands.

“Around here, we have a saying,” Paula confided. “’Don’t plant anything until after Mother’s Day,’ because the weather’s too fickle. Of course our wedding season starts around the same time, so we have to chance it.” She pointed to the color pots. “The more pots we use, the easier it is to move them in if it looks like hail.” She stopped about five feet from the gazebo. A short, stocky man with a brown mustache and beard scrutinized the lower portion of a timber. Scraper in hand, he gently removed peeling paint, wiping the offending material into a small bucket.

“Jonathan?” Paula inquired casually.

The man looked up and smiled. “Everything’s coming up roses,” he assured her. “I’ll be done today.”

“The amount of work you all have done back here is amazing,” Sam said, marveling. “I mean compared to the photo in the parlor, this is an entirely different place.”

“Why thank you Sam!” Paula preened. “I tell you, one of the hardest garden projects thus far was removing that bramble hedge.” Sam looked to the east and realized that the expansive shrub from the newspaper photo was missing. In its place was a stretch of fresh dirt. “You know Mouat planted that hedge back in 1890 with seeds he brought from Scotland,” she continued. “The roots were so deep that we couldn’t get them all out.”

Sam scanned the dirt bed. “This looks recent. When did you remove it?”

“It was recently,” Paula agreed. “February 10th. Not usually a project we would tackle in the winter, but it was completely overgrown. The city was concerned that it would be a fire hazard.” Her gaze rested on Dean and Cas, and she smiled lightly. “I know it’s not my place, but they make such a handsome couple,” she said conspiratorially to Sam, “although he is a bit of an odd duck, don’t you think?”

Sam glanced at his brother and friend. “Yea,” he smiled at her. “Uh, Cas has a calming influence.”

“He does seem like a bit of an old soul,” she murmured. Sam’s smile practically overtook his face.

The two “agents” joined them. “Ms. Crawford, I take it Sam was asking about the guest who had dinner with George Largent at the Rodizio Grill, I think you said?” Dean asked.

Paula looked quizzically at Sam, who covered his tracks quickly. “Yes, Ms. Crawford, do you have the name and number of the other man who went with Mr. Largent? We have a lead we’d like to follow up on.”

“Certainly,” she said. “That would be Russ Hines. Let’s go back inside and I’ll see if I can get him on the phone for you.”

“Good,” Dean responded. “And uh, we’re trying to get a better feel for Nick’s activities right before he disappeared. Do you know where he was heading when he left?”

Paula thought for a minute. “If I recall,” she said slowly, “it was later in the evening. He was in a foul mood, of course. I think he said something about going to get a drink.”

It didn’t take long to get Hines on the phone. He confirmed that he and Largent went to Cristo’s that evening after dinner and that the banker had gotten trashed. He had been overly “handsy” with a brunette, but she didn’t seem to mind because the pair left without him. Hines had grabbed a cab back to the Inn.

“Where do you think they went, Mr. Hines?” Sam asked. “Ms. Crawford says he never came back.”

“No, he took the girl to his room,” Hines asserted. “At least that’s where he said he was going.”

“Well we never saw him,” Paula chided.

Dean had a sinking suspicion he knew why, and if Nick met a similar fate, he may have ended up unable to drive the semi. Either way, no one at the Inn would have recognized either men as women. Dean wondered if Nick was roaming the streets of Denver or back in Ankeny in a dive motel trying to figure out how get his old life back. Largent was probably in the same boat, since both were still considered missing.

As they hung up with Hines, Dean noticed Sam was also lost in thought. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Ms. Crawford also mentioned something about the hedge in the back,” Sam wondered aloud. “It’s, ah, been there since 1890. Guess when it was cut down?”

“Damn,” Dean said quietly. “Come check this out.”

Dean led Cas and Sam back into the parlor to the display case he had admired yesterday. “So you see that box?” he asked, pointing to the one in the case. “Says here our original owner carried it with him from Scotland and that it contained seeds he planted here once he had the house built.” They admired the inlay on the box’s lid. “What do you think the carvings are on the side?” Dean asked.

Cas peered over Dean’s shoulder. “That’s ancient Celtic,” he answered.

Sam looked at Cas hopefully. “Can you read it?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cas replied.

“I’ll get Paula and see if she’ll let us look at it,” Sam offered, walking out of the room. He returned with the General Manager, who opened the case. She gave Sam permission to take pictures of the box with his phone. They thanked her and decided to continue this part of their investigation back at the hotel.

Sam uploaded the photos from his phone to his cloud account, and then started up his laptop so Cas could see the box carvings in as much detail as possible.

“This is very old Celtic, Sam. It’s called Celtiberian,” Cas explained. Small symbols that looked like combinations of E’s, M’s and arrows, all leaning in a variety of directions, encircled the brown wooden box.

“Well, Cas? Give it a shot?” Dean prodded.

Cas nodded and Sam grabbed his notepad. “Veramos kentis uta,” he began.

Dean put a hand against Cas’ back. “Cas, can you translate it into English?” he asked patiently. “That would really speed this up.”

Cas smiled sheepishly. “Of course, I apologize.” He squinted at the carvings again. “Highest sons of Contrebia have on this Beltane feast day secured Druantia who brings forth forests, protects her daughters, and controls the passions of all.”

“Druantia?” Dean repeated skeptically.

Sam was taking notes as Cas talked. “I’m on it,” he said.

Dean and Cas sat against the headboard of Sam’s bed, watching a rerun of The Big Bang Theory. Dean’s ankles were crossed; he had a beer in one hand and Cas’ hand in the other. No surprise, Cas had refused a beer of his own. He was laughing out loud at the TV, softly stroking Dean’s hand with his thumb.

Sam looked up periodically from his research to watch them. He didn’t want to think too much about what his brother must have been doing last night to cause actual pounding on the wall and Cas screaming his name. He watched as Cas let go of Dean’s hand and put an arm around his waist, pulling him close. Dean leaned into Cas’ side and tucked a section of brown hair behind his ear as they both laughed out loud. Sam smiled at their easy affection. He hoped it would last.

Dean looked at Sam, catching his eyes on him, and the two had a quick conversation without saying a word.

Dean knitted his brows, jerking his chin up slightly (What?).

Sam arched his eyebrows and nodded towards the bed (You guys, that’s what).

Dean shrugged his shoulders (What about it?).

Sam stared (You guys going to continue this even after we fix you? Will you be as okay with it when you’re back to normal as you are now? You look really happy and Cas looks really happy. And this is Cas, not some bimbo. I could care less if you are two dudes together, and you should care less if you are two dudes together. You’re obviously in love, you complete moron. If you care so much about what other people think, maybe you shouldn’t ‘fix’ anything. Stay a chick. Just figure it out because I really don’t want to watch you screw this up).

Dean stared back blankly (What the hell, Sam?) and then flipped Sam off (Fuck you).

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes (You never change, you know that?).

Dean smiled (I know).

Sam looked down at his screen. “Got it,” he said aloud.

“So get this. Druantia is ‘Queen of the Druids,’” Sam explained. “She’s the Celtic Fir Goddess and mother of their tree calendar. She symbolizes protection, knowledge, creativity, passion, sex, fertility, growth, trees and forests.”

“Sounds like my gal,” Dean quipped.

“So if the ‘sons of Contrebia’ ‘secured’ her,” Cas added. “She may not be very happy with men in general.”

“Well I’m thinking she was trapped in those seeds for what, two thousand years or more, and then she gets planted and trapped in the hedge,” Sam hypothesized. “Hey,” he said suddenly. “I just thought of something.” He searched online and brought up the picture from the Denver Post again. “This is where the girls’ bodies were found,” he pointed, “and here’s about where Gwen was when she had her encounter. She said that the dark-haired ghost reached out to her but seemed to look right through her.”

“Yea?” Dean asked.

“Well look, Dean,” Sam explained. “I think she was actually pointing to the hedge.”

Cas nodded. “If Druantia was trapped and unable to protect the two girls, she could be very vindictive now that she’s been released.”

“And she’s all about knowledge and ‘teaching lessons,’” Dean added. He sighed heavily. “What do we need to do to gank her, Sam?”

“That’s the bad news,” Sam admitted. “I can’t find anything about killing her. I have absolutely no idea.”

\--------------------------------------------------

“Dammit!” Dean swore. He sat on the edge of his motel bed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He leaned his head on his fist. “So now we know what we’re dealing with but we have no idea how to kill it.”

“I don’t think it’s wise to go looking for Candy if we don’t know what to do if we find her, Dean,” Cas reasoned.

“I know, Cas. I know.” Dean looked up in frustration.

“I’m sure Sam won’t give up,” Cas added, sitting beside Dean and placing a hand on his knee. “I trust we will find more information tomorrow.”

Dean stared down at Cas’ fingers. If he was being honest, Dean was still preoccupied by Sam’s death stare from earlier in the evening. He was pretty sure he got “I’m happy for you” and “Don’t screw this up.” Both of those messages scared the crap out of him. Add to that the day’s highs and lows and Dean’s nerves were fried. “I’m going to bed,” he said.

Cas tilted his head inquisitively and Dean flashed him a tired smile. “You are invited, Cas,” he said.

The room was quiet as they crawled under the covers, which made the chaos inside Dean’s head seem even louder. He ticked through all the details he could manage from the night Candy changed him, trying again to settle on what must have been the tipping point for her. He flopped on his back in frustration, looking up in the dark.

“What are you thinking about exactly?” Cas asked.

“What’s my lesson, Cas?” he asked the ceiling. “It took Bob a month and a half, and as far as we know, Nick and George are both wandering around as chicks somewhere. What if I never figure this out?”

“Bob figured it out because he had Janet,” Cas said soothingly, “We will figure this out." He hesitated, then added, "Please don’t take this the wrong way Dean, but if you never figure this out and are female for the rest of your life, that would hardly be a punishment.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean shot back. “Are you saying I should just give up?”

“I am saying no such thing, Dean,” Cas replied. He sighed and said softly, “Are you in pain? Are you alone and suffering?”

“No,” Dean conceded.

“I’m just trying to provide some perspective,” Cas offered calmly. “I think you would agree that this could be so much worse. But of course Sam and I will do everything we can to get you back to normal.”

Dean exhaled. Truly, the hardest part of the last two days had been high heels. It wasn’t like he was struggling to not rip out his friends’ throats or pushing 80 and about to have a heart attack. Dean considered how horrible this situation would be if no one believed he was who he said he was.

In fact, almost everything he had experienced so far had been amazing, and he owed that all to Cas. “Look I get what you’re saying,” Dean confessed. “You know, the best part of this whole situation is you and me. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.” He rolled to face Cas in the dark. “Cas, I swear to you, I don’t want to go back to the way things were between us, no matter what.” He took a deep breath and reached up a small hand to touch Cas’ cheek.

“I feel the same way, Dean,” Cas replied. He kissed the hand and a warm sensation traveled from Dean’s fingers to his heart.

“What are you doing to me, man?” Dean chuckled. He closed his eyes and started to feel more restful. Then he answered his own question. “Cas, do you love me?”

“From the moment I touched you, Dean,” he admitted.

The angry noise in Dean’s head hushed. He placed his hand over Cas’ heart. “I love you too, you know,” he whispered. “It just took me a while to get here.”

Dean swore he could see Cas smiling in the dark.

“May I show you?” Cas asked.

“Okay,” Dean replied.

Cas eased over him, loving how when their skin touched every cell in his body hummed. He slipped between Dean’s legs and gently covered the smaller, tanned frame below him, placing his cock in the hollow of Dean’s hipbone. Both knew this was uncharted territory and slightly dangerous.

He kissed Dean tenderly, and in return Dean parted his lips and invited Cas in. He responded, lightly winding his tongue around Dean’s. They laid together in the dark, professing their love with slow kisses and shared breath, all tinged with the exhilaration of daring closeness. “Ready?” Cas whispered. Dean tensed slightly, trusting but unsure, and nodded. He hoped Cas saw it.

Dean felt the warmth of Cas’ skin on his, but then a new sensation started just below his chest. It was as if Cas had placed a small rock that had been warmed in the sun all day just under his ribcage and then eased it into him. Slowly that specific warmth spread inside Dean, radiating out at about an inch per second. Cas continued to kiss him, moving to his neck as Dean started to pant lightly. “Cas…” he whispered in awe.

The warmth started to overwhelm Dean’s senses as it spread like ripples in a pond. First he felt butterflies in his stomach and the uncertainty of a first crush. As the warmth moved to his chest and belly, there was the anxiousness of a first kiss and the sense of belonging he got from holding hands.

Dean was getting goosebumps and flushed, but he couldn’t wait for the next emotion. Then the warmth surged to his groin and neck, and he was surrounded with the elation of first love. His heart felt like it was soaring. A small tear slid down his cheek and he gasped out loud. The sensation continued to fill up his body. It seemed that every nerve ending in its path was being strummed lightly like guitar strings. Down his arms and to his knees he felt the contentment of shared affection and then the pleasure in adoring another.

Dean was trembling now. His entire body was almost entirely saturated, and then, in one final pulse out his fingers, toes and the top of his head, he was overcome with utter and complete joy. Tears streamed down his face and Cas kissed them as they fell, shushing into his neck, reassuring.

They lay together for another few minutes, and then Cas eased himself to Dean’s side. The warmth and joy slowly lessened in intensity and Dean chased it, curling up against Cas who held him close. “I hope I can remember that for the rest of my life,” he whispered.

“I will remind you,” Cas promised and kissed the top of Dean’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.goddessaday.com/western-european/druantia  
> http://ancient-celts.com/LanguagesCeltiberian2.html


	6. Light Show

Just before dawn was magical. After spending millions of years watching, Cas knew when the sun was 30 minutes from rising, 15 minutes, five. The air seemed to change slightly, perhaps the barometric pressure dropped a tad.

He had watched dawn break thousands of times over the Grand Canyon. He loved dawn across the Mediterranean, looking east from Sicily. Machu Picchu was also particularly striking. Now he had a new favorite to add to the list – dawn in the Dunmovin Inn in Denver, Colorado.

Dean had told him that he thought it was “creepy” when Cas watched him sleep, so he had stopped years ago. But permission had recently been granted, and Dean had looked more peaceful last night than Cas had seen him in a long time; curled up on his side, hugging a pillow as if cradling a teddy bear. His longer, brown hair now splayed across his face. Cas had gingerly reached over and swept it away several times during the night. He kept a reasonable distance after determining that spooning really only worked for Dean until he fell asleep. After that contact with anything other than the pillow made him twitch and kept him from sleeping soundly. Probably hunter’s instincts.

As the darkness outside started to slowly turn from black to deep blue, Cas heard Dean’s breathing change and knew he was awake. He lay still, not wanting to influence Dean’s decision to either fall back asleep or get up. He watched as Dean rolled onto his back and with his eyes still closed, inhaled deeply and stretched his arms above his head. A smile played on his lips and Cas wondered what caused it.

The skin on Dean’s arms and legs still hummed faintly. His heart seemed bigger in his chest. He had permanently made room for Cas in there and it felt like Cas was rearranging the furniture and settling in. Dean stretched and smiled.

He registered that it was mostly dark and quiet in the motel room, and for Dean, old habits die excruciatingly hard. After decades of starting his day with a little morning wood, he had come to associate 5:00 am with personal time. Usually Sam was in the next bed over, so personal time was shower time. But when they were in the bunker, or he had his own room like now, he had the luxury of spending a little time on himself without sneaking around in the dark. And then it occurred to Dean that although the wood was missing, there was a decidedly feminine body waiting to be inventoried and mapped.

He slowly lowered his hands, running fingernails lightly down his own neck, and then slid a hand between his breasts. He gave his tits a firm squeeze and then rubbed both nipples simultaneously between thumbs and forefingers. He smiled and Cas heard a small rumble of contentment.

A quick study, Dean was already practicing the lessons Cas had taught him barely three days before. Soon he slid his left hand down past his belly to comb his fingers lightly in the small hairs there. He spread his right leg a bit and moved his fingers down to feel between those lips. He started with pressure and the smallest of circles. Within seconds the tingling passed up to his chest. He squeezed his right nipple and it amplified.

Dean crooked his finger and rubbed right underneath his clit; that was exceptional. He inhaled deeply while continuing that movement and leaned his head back a little deeper into the pillow. Slowly bringing up his knees, trying to be very quiet in the shared bed, he dipped his finger slightly into the wet and used it to slide all the way up and down his clit. A controlled breath pushed out of his mouth and his hips started a small, almost imperceptible rocking.

Cas was enthralled. The sight of Dean pleasing himself was hypnotic – the way his smile changed, breathing responded, hands explored. He wondered how Dean would look if he didn’t care about waking a very-non-sleeping Cas, so he swallowed and said “Dean,” in a soft but characteristically deep voice. Dean froze. “You don’t have to be quiet on my account,” he added, reaching over to cover the lonely left breast Dean had forsaken for greener pastures.

After a second’s pause, Dean’s hand continued. A grin played across his face and his hips rocked against his finger steadily. Cas played with a nipple, then leaned over to kiss Dean’s neck, licking the skin and enjoying the slightly salty taste. Dean stopped and turned to face him. He reached out to palm Cas’ half-hard cock and then pushed him back against the bed, crawling up to straddle his thighs. Cas looked at him uncertainly, head tilted. “Dean?” he asked tentatively.

“I’m gonna use you,” Dean whispered seductively. “I’m gonna give you the friction you don’t even know you need.” Cas groaned, and Dean pinched one of his nipples. “Don’t you move, Cas,” he threatened, passion building. “This is all you get,” and he placed one of Cas’ hands on his breast and squeezed hard. Then Dean inched up Cas’ body and lined up against the back of Cas’ cock. “Don’t you fucking move,” he said again in a hushed tone, and then he leaned his crotch down against Cas, pinning his erection to his stomach, and rocked up to stroke him.

Cas’ hands instinctively jumped to Dean’s hips. “No,” he gasped.

“Shut your mouth,” Dean ordered. He grabbed Cas’ hands off his hips and pushed them into the bed, pretending for a second he could manhandle an angel and get some needed leverage. He ground into Cas again, sliding up and down the base of his cock just by rocking his hips. Cas’ expression turned from concern to surprise, and he lay still as Dean worked on top of him. Dean slid his hands up Cas’ arms to grip the muscles in his shoulders, which gave the perfect platform to balance against. Now he could slide up Cas’ length as well as grind into him.

The light outside started to slowly crawl into the room, making it easier for Cas to make out Dean’s features. His lips were slightly pursed, and he wore a look of defiant concentration as if he dared Cas to stop him. His hair had fallen in front of his face, so Cas reached up and tucked it back behind Dean’s ear. He remembered what he was allowed to touch, and, gauging Dean’s current mood, grabbed roughly, digging his fingers in. Dean cursed as he swung his body back, sitting up and clutching Cas’ hands to his tits. Then Cas dropped his hands to the tops of Dean’s thighs and he could feel the tensed muscles under smooth skin. “Dean,” Cas whispered, smiling broadly, “you are gorgeous.”

A slight smile flashed across Dean’s mouth as he looked down into Cas’ eyes. “Dude, you are so hot pinned down underneath me,” he almost purred. “Be good, and I’m gonna make you come without laying a finger on you.” Dean slid his hips to drive the point home. Cas’ expression turned reverent and he closed his eyes, now happy to let Dean do whatever he wanted.

Dean angled himself, found his rhythm, and stoked the fire burning in his hips. He felt confident and grounded in the familiarity of being on top, thrusting his hips, and feeling heat and friction. It was infinitely more dangerous, though, because his body and mind were screaming to take Cas inside. One twitch, one stroke too long, and he could get what he really craved, finally feel Cas’ tip, finally open up and slide down him, finally grip all around him. The more Dean stroked, the more desperate he got and he knew Cas was picking up on it. But there was a spot inside that ached for Cas and Dean was certain he was the only one who could ease the want. He leaned forward, gripped Cas’ shoulders tight, and tried to keep his sanity.

Below him, Cas was drowning. The onslaught of Dean’s thrusts, the heat of him and the almost frantic pace would be his undoing. It took everything in his power to stay still and not buck into it, not drive into Dean and be surrounded completely by that amazing, hot, wetness. They were both sweating, breathing heavily, and filled with a mindless purpose that they fought with every fiber.

“Dean,” Cas moaned, “Please, I need to touch you.” Dean’s eyes flew open and he nodded quickly. Cas’ hands were pulled back to Dean’s hips as if they were magnets, and he gripped Dean tight, helped him push down against his throbbing erection. “Dean I want to be inside you,” he almost sobbed.

“I know, babe,” Dean gasped, “Me too. Oh God, Cas!” Dean threw his head back and stroked up, bearing down hard onto him, and felt his entire body shake. Cas kept moving Dean’s hips when he couldn’t anymore, pulling Dean’s orgasm out for as long as he could. He was seconds away himself; trying to process the hundreds of things his body was doing with or without him. Then he didn’t want to fight it anymore, just gave in and let go. “Dean!” he cried out, and felt the euphoria, then his own hot cum pulsing out, shooting up his belly.

Neither moved as they struggled to come back, to calm down through the adrenaline. Cas smiled and looked at Dean in wonder. “I knew why humans had sex, but I now know why they want to. Regularly. Often.”

Dean grinned at the handsome face below him. “Cas, you were so amazing. You did so well. Didn’t know how you would handle all of that. I swear all I could think about was giving in because I wanted you so badly. I wonder if that was part of the curse or just biology?”

“Biology,” Cas answered with a tinge of awe in his voice. “Dean I don’t know if I should do that again. I don’t think you being naked on me is wise. The need to be…surrounded by you is almost more than I can take. I still feel it.”

Smiling weakly, Dean gently removed himself from on top of Cas. “I know,” he said. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

\-------------------------------------

Sam figured it out over breakfast. He was apologizing again for not being able to find anything about how to gank Druantia.

“Sam, it’s okay,” Dean consoled. “I mean really. Maybe we can try something that worked on other Druid gods?” he offered halfheartedly.

Dean eyed the bacon, eggs and pancakes in front of Cas, who had insisted that Dean order something for him. He watched as Cas poured an embarrassingly large amount of maple syrup over his short stack. Dean looked at Sam and then back down to the short stack and back to Sam again. Sam got the hint and shot Dean a look of amusement and wonder.

“How ya doing there, Cas?” Sam asked with a smile.

Cas looked up from his pancakes grinning. “This is correct, right? Maple syrup? It smells wonderful!”

“Yea, it’s correct,” Dean laughed. “But if you put too much on there you may not like it.”

Cas cut a slice through four pancakes and stuffed the dripping mess into his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head and he smiled big as he tried to eat the entire bite.

“Dude!” Sam jeered, “Stop picking up Dean’s disgusting habits! You don’t even need to eat!”

“This is amazing, Sam! Please try this. You will enjoy it, I promise!” Cas waved another forkful at Sam.

Dean picked a piece of bacon off of Cas’ plate and swiped it through a syrup puddle. Then he wagged it at his brother, saying “Listen to the angel, Sam. Granola and yogurt will kill you.”

“Seriously, Cas, get that away from me!” Sam laughed. “Guess you worked up an appetite last night, huh?”

“This morning,” Cas replied around the pancake in his mouth. “I could eat a cow right now!”

Dean spluttered on his coffee. “You could eat a _horse_ , Cas. And let’s keep the details to a minimum, okay!?”

“Why Dean?” he asked, following Dean’s lead by picking up a piece of bacon and dunking it in syrup. He took a bite and groaned.

Dean stared at his friggin beautiful boyfriend, who made a noise just like that squirming naked underneath him only hours ago, and his breath seriously caught in his chest. He reached out without thinking and wiped a drop of syrup off Cas’ lip and put it in his mouth. Cas stopped and beamed at Dean, then leaned in and kissed him. Dean forgot they were in the diner, his sole purpose suddenly was to taste that maple syrup with his own tongue.

“God you’re hot,” Dean murmured in Cas’ mouth.

“Excuse me,” Sam hissed. “We are in a family restaurant, Dean. Control yourself!”

“You heard him, Sam,” Dean complained, tearing his eyes off Castiel to give his brother a grin. “He sounded like sex on a stick. He was being rude. Someone had to shut him up.”

“He was being rude?” Sam said in disbelief. “If anyone was being rude…”

Dean stared at his brother. “What?”

A big smile spread across Sam’s face. “The roots, Dean. I think I know how to stop Candy.”

Back in the motel room, Sam relayed his conversation with Paula Crawford. “She specifically said that when they took down the hedge in February they couldn’t get it all out because some of the roots were too deep in the ground,” he explained.

“So you’re thinking that if we could dig up all the roots, then that should put Candy or Druantia out of commission?” Dean reasoned.

“I would recommend burning them,” Cas offered from the kitchenette table.

Sam turned to face him. “Why’s that?”

“First I think it will be faster and easier than sneaking over to the Lumber Baron with a backhoe,” Cas said.

Dean smirked. After spending years thinking Cas wouldn’t know a joke if it bit him on the ass, Dean was really enjoying sarcastic!Cas. His delivery was spot on, and the best part was that Sam still wasn’t quite sure if Cas was joking most of the time. Like now.

“Next,” Cas continued, “I believe there’s a conjuring spell that should not only call Druantia to the hedge but also burn the roots at the same time.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Dean nodded. “Are we waiting until sundown?”

“I’ll check the spell,” Sam said.

They decided that by 9:30 pm only a handful of staff would still be working at the Lumber Baron Inn and it would be dark enough to hide their arrival. They spent the afternoon gathering needed supplies and otherwise preparing for the ritual.

Dean should have been more anxious than he was. Maybe it was the confidence of a very successful track record when it came to these things, or the reassurance of having “all hands on deck” with both Sam and Cas here. But deep down, Dean was more at peace right now than he remembered ever being, and he could give a rat’s ass how this turned out. Well, he was committed to stopping Candy (or whatever her name was) from yanking anyone else’s chain, but whether it turned him back or not had become less of an issue.

The trio scaled the metal fence at the back of the property and quietly made their way to the dirt patch that used to contain the hedge that held Druantia. Light shown from the Inn’s back doors but barely reached them. Dean stood guard, shotgun in hand, while Cas watched the Inn for innocent bystanders who may unintentionally interrupt them.

Meanwhile Sam squatted over a small wooden bowl into which he combined the necessary ingredients. He sprinkled the bowl’s contents over the dirt in front of them, and then started the incantation, which Cas had converted from Latin to Celtiberian to make sure it would call the Druid queen. On the last syllable he pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicked the flint wheel and tossed it. Fire exploded over the dirt and all three shielded their eyes. Immediately a huge gust of wind blew through the garden, bending willow trees and whipping aspens into a frenzy. Candy stood in the center of the fireball, gold eyes blazing and shouting in anger.

“You!” she screamed, pointing at Dean. “How did you do this?”

“Sorry sweetheart, but you messed with a professional,” he quipped gamely.

She stared at him and then taunted knowingly, “So you’ve been a good girl, but you still haven’t learned a damn thing, have you?”

Dean’s look turned stormy, matching the weather. “Listen, bitch, this ends now,” he spat. “Turn me back!”

The flames shot up a good foot and Candy screamed in agony. “Screw you, Dean! Learn your damn lesson! Killing me won’t break the spell.” Her body twisted in pain. “I am old energy, stored and contained for thousands of years!”

Cas leaned forward and yelled “The fire must be burning through the roots now.”

Candy’s body contorted and fear swept over her face. Suddenly she looked defeated; as though she could tell her time was up. She shook her head sadly. “Those men deserved what they got. I only wish I could have found the one who killed my little girls. Dean, figure it out. Be a better man.” She looked right into Dean’s eyes, then raised her arms to the sky and let the flames consume her.

Instantly the wind stopped and the fire disappeared. Cas and Sam stared at Dean, who couldn’t take his eyes from the spot where Candy had stood. He then looked at his brother and lover and without saying a word walked back to the car.

\--------------------------------------------

The mood around the little table was subdued. Dean’s gaze was distant. He threw back a shot of whiskey, thinking _I can probably only drink two more of these now_. The burn felt good, like a little punishment he knew he deserved.

“Hey, at least we know that Denver is now a safer place,” Sam tried. He took a gulp of beer and looked at Cas imploringly. Cas merely nodded.

Dean sighed, tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and looked at Sam with a dejected smile. “You’re right, Sam,” he responded. “Good work you guys.”

Cas put a hand on Dean’s forearm and said quietly, “Bob figured it out. We will figure it out. Why don’t you tell us everything you can remember?”

“Yea, Cas, I will,” Dean replied. “Just not tonight.”

“Something else is going on,” Sam accused. “What’s up?”

Dean shook his head. God he hated this, being here where all his shortcomings and screw-ups are flapping in the breeze for everyone to see. “You know, it’s just the same old bullshit with me. She was right. I should be better than this.”

Cas smiled, “Dean, that doesn’t mean that you’re a bad person. We can all be better.”

“I know, Cas,” he agreed wearily. “Hey, get me another shot, would ya? I’m going to the john.”

Dean rose and slowly made his way through the crowded bar to the restrooms. This case may have finally rid him of the need to go out to drown his sorrows. Of course as soon as he thought it, he knew that was crap and he was just kidding himself. Chick or not, Dean would always feel at home in a dark, wood-paneled hole-in-the-wall as long as there was a jukebox and Jack.

Preoccupied, Dean jostled into a tall man, accidentally spilling his beer. He apologized, reaching out to still the man’s arm and keep him from losing any more. The stranger was well-built; a tribal tattoo peeked out from the sleeve of a gray V-neck t-shirt. His face turned from annoyance to interest as he got a good look at Dean. “No problem, sweetheart,” he grinned. “Why don’t you help me drink what’s left?” Dean offered a “no thanks” over his shoulder as he resumed his trek.

In the restroom, he washed his hands and looked in the mirror. The pretty face looking back at him seemed tired and her eyes were a little sad. Hours ago he told himself he didn’t care one way or the other, but now that he was back at square one, he wasn’t so sure. _Snap out of it_ , he chided himself. Dean straightened, put on his game face and pushed out the bathroom door. He nearly knocked into Beer Guy. “Shit,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Sorry again.”

The stranger turned and was close. Too close. He was crowding Dean, trying to get chest to chest. “Now you really owe me,” he grinned. “Come have a beer.”

“No thanks, man,” Dean said, attempting to walk past the guy.

Beer Guy put his hands on Dean’s upper arms to stop him. “Come on,” he said firmly. “I like you, I want to get to know you. Have a drink with me.”

 _Jesus, what is it with people?_ Dean thought. “Get your fucking hands off me right now,” he replied stonily, staring into the stranger’s eyes. “Trust me, you do not want to see me when I’m angry.”

For two seconds they stared at each other, and then the man looked around and pressed Dean back against the wall, pushing into him. “I think you’re pretty sexy when you’re mad,” he breathed into Dean’s ear. Then he licked Dean’s neck like he was staking a claim.

Dean’s first reaction was disgust. That was quickly followed with an anger that flared so hot that his only thought was for his gun. Instead, he stomped hard on the top of Beer Guy’s foot with the heel of his boot. They both heard popping sounds as three top bones broke, and then Dean pushed him away. While the stranger wobbled, instinctively looking down to see the source of the sound and shooting pain, Dean slapped the side of his head hard, busting his eardrum. Beer Guy’s eyes registered shock and disbelief as he lost his equilibrium and fell to his knees. Dean knew he wouldn’t be walking out of the bar unassisted. He leaned down and said clearly into what would now be known as the guy’s good ear, “‘No’ means ‘no’ asshole.”

Dean strode purposefully back to the table, scooped up the shot that waited for him and threw it back. Cas and Sam looked at him worriedly. “We need to leave,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now.”

“Shit, Dean,” Sam marveled. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

They were walking back to the Impala. When Dean had explained the reason for their hasty exit, Sam had turned around instantly to go back and confront the guy. Dean had grabbed his arm, saying “Dude, if he wants to press charges for assault, I’m screwed. We need to get out of here.” So Sam let it go, and they all walked away quickly to put some distance between the bar and themselves.

“I can’t wait to get out of this fucking town,” Dean grumbled. “What is it with the people here? I mean I get the fact that bars are not hotbeds for well-mannered, polite, Jehovah’s Witnesses, but seriously, if another asshole screws with me again, I am going to lose it.” Dean stopped in his tracks and turned to face his brother. “There will be a trail of bodies, Sam!”

Cas had missed it, was still walking ahead. When he noticed he was several paces in front of the Winchesters, and that Dean was deep in conversation with his brother, Cas approached a nearby metal bench and sat. The Denver nightlife hummed around him. He stuffed his hands in the trench coat’s pockets, glanced at Dean again, and then studied the people walking by.

Dean registered Cas’ location, realizing that for some reason he just needed to know where Cas was. He shifted his attention back to Sam and said, “You know all the times I’ve seen you with women, you have never been _that guy_.”

Sam looked down at this attractive woman peering into his eyes intently, believing only the good in him, and his gut twisted. He huffed and shook his head. “Dean, _I’ve_ been that guy. _You’ve_ been that guy. We’ve _all_ been that guy.” he gestured widely. “I’m not proud of it and it certainly feels shitty when you’re a chick and you’re looking at me like that, like I’m this perfect person who would never push. But dude, I spent a year doing whatever felt good with no thought about the repercussions. So yea, I’ve been _that guy_.”

Suddenly all the pieces fell into place. Dean remembered his hand on Candy’s knee, insistent circles on the flesh of her lower thigh, sliding a hand under her blouse, all of it uninvited.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Crap, Sam, I’ve been that guy. I was _that guy_ ,” he whispered.

“To Candy? You think that’s it?” Sam wondered. His excitement was building as he watched Dean’s expression.

“Yea, Sam, I’m almost sure of it.” He stared off then looked imploringly in his brother’s eyes. “What do I do next?”

“I don’t know, dude,” Sam shrugged. “You know Dean, I think the only guy who’s been a perfect angel is the angel,” he added, nodding towards Cas.

Dean returned Sam’s smile. He walked over to the bench, sat down and took Cas’ hand. “Hey Cas,” he said quietly. “I uh, I think I figured it out.”

“I knew you would, Dean.” Cas congratulated, turning to him with a smile. He leaned down to kiss the top of Dean’s head.

“How are you just this amazing, selfless, patient, ridiculously handsome person-slash-angel?” Dean asked, shaking his head. “You never push. You always ask. I mean that’s a crazy amount of control.”

“No, it’s not Dean,” Cas replied. “It doesn’t take angelic control or superhuman powers to _not_ assume that what I want is more important that what anyone else wants.”

“Look, we’ve met angels who were major dicks,” Dean prodded. “I’ve met people, _men_ , on this case, who were major dicks. Crap, I’ve been a major dick. But not you. How is that?”

“People are beautiful to me, Dean,” Cas sighed, looking out at the men and women walking by. “They are amazing creations. Why would I want to cause any pain, emotional or physical, to something beautiful? I want to protect it, care for it. Now that I can choose, that’s what I choose to do.”

They were both quiet, sitting on the metal bench watching Denver move around them.

“Would you like to see what I see?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded.

Cas muttered something in a language Dean assumed was Enochian, then passed his hand over Dean’s eyes.

It was like Cas had flipped a switch and every person walking by was illuminated from within. And not just a single 40-watt bulb, but a round, three-dimensional ball that encircled their bodies. Blue whites, pinks, purples and pale greens gently rippled through the light. Some people were more predominately one color than another, but each was truly amazing.

“Holy crap,” Dean whispered. “How do you…”

“Squint your eyes just a little,” Cas offered. Dean obeyed and the light gently collapsed so he could see the person as well.

“What is that?” he asked.

“It’s the human soul, Dean.”

“So that’s what you meant…” Dean trailed off, remembering Cas’ explanation a lifetime ago. He looked at his own hand, and then down, mesmerized by the greens and coppers around his chest. For a second he thought he saw something. His own light was very bright this close up, but as Dean’s gaze moved away from his chest just by a few inches he could have sworn he saw a single thin filament, maybe the width of spider’s silk, not even as big as a hair. He followed it and then immediately slammed his eyes shut against an onslaught of blazing light. “Shit!”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas assured him. “You aren’t seeing my true form.”

Dean tentatively squinted through one eye and was speechless as he looked at the angel beside him. Deep ocean blues, magnificent corals and deep indigos spun around Cas, pulsing in a slow rhythm. Without thinking, Dean slowly reached out a hand and watched it pass right through the light show. “Cas, you are…” Dean didn’t even know what word to use. He just shook his head. “You’re gorgeous, Cas. You are truly awesome.”

Cas smiled unashamedly. “This is what I see when I look at humanity, Dean. This is what I see when I look at you.”


	7. Love Me Tender

The motel room seemed smaller, a little claustrophobic. Or perhaps, Dean considered, Cas just seemed bigger. He simply took up more space. He remembered those swirling colors moving around and through the angel sitting at the head of the king-sized bed. There seemed to be less oxygen around Cas, and Dean realized he was breathing heavier. It was like being in the same room as the Aurora Borealis.

And then there was the gravitational pull. Dean couldn’t keep his eyes off Cas. Without realizing it, he was slowly pacing in a semi-circle around the bed, keeping to the outside corners of the room. He paused by the chair next to the TV and toed off his boots, pulling off black cotton socks. He shook his head lightly and went into the bathroom, walking back out within seconds still wearing an AC/DC t-shirt and jeans but with a white lace bra dangling by a strap in his hand. He tossed it onto the chair by the TV. It landed on Cas’ tan trench coat.

“God it feels good to get out of that,” he muttered to himself. He rolled his neck, smiling as he felt Castiel’s eyes on him.

Dean padded over to the kitchenette and grabbed his favorite safety blanket from the mini fridge. He offered one to Cas, who merely smiled in response. The cool bottle felt good in his hand as he twisted off the cap and took a swig, then leaned back against the counter to stare at Cas appreciatively.

“I feel like I’m under a microscope, Dean,” Cas chuckled.

Dean couldn’t help smiling. “I will never think of you as just a ‘little nerdy guy’ ever again, Cas.” He sighed as he took another drink.

“Come here,” Cas said deeply.

Dean set his beer on the counter and walked to where Cas sat, all dark hair and blue eyes, tie askew. Dark slacks covered legs that stretched out in front of him, so Dean sat on the edge of the bed and lightly tapped a thigh to get Cas to sit up. He obliged and Dean joined him, both sitting cross-legged on the tan bedspread facing each other. Dean leaned back on his arms and looked at Cas appraisingly.

“You are so much more than I ever thought, you know?” Dean admitted. “I mean you have always been this amazing badass in an adorable little wrapper, with your head tilty thing and your big eyes. You looked so naïve most of the time, unless you were killing monsters or smiting someone,” he laughed. “But you were right; I should have showed you more respect. Now that I see you, I mean really see you, I feel like a huge jackass.”

Cas just smiled. “Don’t, although it was often extremely frustrating.” He paused. “What was more frustrating was not being able to express how I really felt about you.”

At that, Dean sat up, looking imploringly into the face across from him. “I still don’t get it. I am a messed up, broken piece of humanity, Cas, and you are a friggin angel of the Lord. There are _galaxies_ in your eyes. You swim in blue and purple _light_.”

“Why Dean, are you writing poems about me?” Cas teased.

“I’m serious, man!” Dean said suddenly.

The angel scowled and reached out to hold Dean’s hands. “I will say this over and over again. I have loved you since the first time I touched you. I will love you forever. Dean, I have made more mistakes than a ‘friggin angel of the Lord’ should ever have been permitted to, but I have finally decided that I deserve you.”

"You deserve…” was about all Dean could get out. He sprang on Cas, leaning over to press them both against the wall with a hard kiss. Cas pulled Dean close, and he ended up sitting in the triangle of Cas’ crossed legs, arms behind Cas’ neck, pulling him into a warm, wet and open kiss. It was desperation, fierce possessiveness and gratitude, with tongues. Dean pulled away to whisper, “If you make me cry, so help me I will punch you.”

They smiled at each other until Cas curled an arm around Dean’s waist and moved them both down the bed. Then he was over Dean, pressing into his mouth, kissing down his neck. Dean sighed heavily, contentment coursing through him like a drug as he crooked his feet over Cas’ ankles. Hot breath greeted Dean’s left breast, and then Cas’ mouth was on the fabric, teeth carefully chewing a nipple through the thin t-shirt.

Dean let out a low moan, but something nagged at him; an itch he couldn’t scratch, an apology he couldn’t remember why he needed to make. “Cas, wait,” he said breathlessly, gently pushing against Cas’ chest and the teeth that held him tethered. “Shit! Cas stop! I’m trying to tell you something. I’ve been an idiot. I…” and then Dean realized that he had not only been _that guy_ , that pushy and selfish guy, with Candy, but he had continued being that guy with Cas. Shock and sadness settled on his face.

Cas’ smile evaporated. “What is it Dean?” he asked, voice filled with concern.

“I pushed you too,” Dean confessed. “It wasn’t just Candy or other women before. I thought I knew best, even when you told me what you wanted. I swear to you, I will never do that again.”

“Dean Winchester, you are becoming a better man in front of my eyes,” Cas marveled. He planted a lingering kiss on Dean’s forehead and Dean could feel the love and pride Cas had for him. He smiled broadly. Then somewhere in the back of his mind, a small piece of spider’s silk flickered against the light. His eyes bored into Cas’, searching for an answer to an unasked question.

“How long has it been there, Cas?” he asked quietly.

Cas held Dean’s gaze. “I think you know the answer, Dean.”

“Since you first touched me? Since you put me back together?” he implored.

“Yes,” Cas replied. He tentatively lowered his head back to Dean’s chest, nuzzling the nipple with his nose and then blowing cool air across it.

“It’s been there the entire time? Why didn’t I notice?”

“I didn’t want you to,” Cas confessed. “I didn’t want to burden you or make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Burden me?” Dean asked. “Cas, wait.” He started to sit up so Cas stopped his experiments and sat up with him. “It will never go away, will it?”

“Never,” Cas admitted.

Dean closed his eyes as a not-entirely-small wave of dread rolled over him. He was forever linked to Cas. Literally linked to him. He wasn’t sure he should be forever linked to a turkey sandwich, let alone something as awe-inspiring and beautiful as this soldier of Heaven. His mind skipped to Lisa and he took a deep breath, worrying, _if this all falls to shit, if I screw this up, Cas will still be connected to me_.

Cas reached out for one of Dean’s hands, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing each knuckle. “Dean, it’s been there the entire time and I can shut it down for you. Once you became more receptive, I thought it was safe to share it.”

“You’ve felt it for years, all alone?” Dean probed. “No wonder you stood too close all the time. Shit, Cas, that must have been lonely for you.” He looked into the angel’s eyes and a silly, old-fashioned word came to him: _unrequited_.

“I’m going to kiss you now, you stupid son of a bitch,” Dean whispered, moving in close. “Like we should have been doing, forever.” He cupped Cas’ face in both of his hands and shook his head slowly. Then Dean gently kissed Cas, rubbing a thumb against his jawline, with soft lips on his cheeks and closed eyes, all the while thinking, _I’m sorry you were so alone. I’m sorry that we waited so long and wasted so much time_.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas soothed. “I am very happy. I love you. I want to give you everything.”

It was unreal, actually, hearing words of complete devotion being directed towards him, to him, about him. Not husky, sexy, hot, screw-me-now words that only lasted as long as the breath that carried them. These words were meaty; they were substantial and they fed Dean’s soul, leaving him sated.

Then something Cas had said days ago came back to him. “You said you wanted me to really feel the bond you feel between us. Does that mean that you, uh, feel it like how you felt this morning? You know, physically?”

“Yes,” Cas replied. “It’s not as intense as an orgasm, but calling on that bond provides me with very pleasant sensations. I really don’t need more than that and kissing; however, I know that being intimate helps you feel what I feel.” Cas tilted his head and rolled his eyes to the side and said, “I am willing to make that sacrifice for you.”

“Oh you are?” Dean said sarcastically, a huge grin on his face. “Dude, ‘willing to make that sacrifice?’ You are such a _giver_ , Cas.”

It had been a long day and a longer night. Dean realized a small throbbing had started behind his eyes. He rubbed his temples and then hopped up off the bed. “Too much stress, man,” he said over his shoulder as he rummaged around in his duffel bag, searching for the grown-up candy. He grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen and swallowed a few.

“Hey, what about the smells?” Dean asked as he returned to the bed and snuggled into Cas’ side. “You smell like baseball fields in the summer and someone’s baking cookies. It’s amazing. Is that like angel cologne?”

“I would say it is more like angel pheromones,” Cas explained. He leaned back against the head of the bed, and then spread his legs so Dean could rest against his chest. His hands started massaging Dean’s shoulders, rubbing the tight muscles with his thumbs. “I think it is hardly surprising that when you feel loved you smell things that remind you of your childhood in Kansas – of home. You smell like home to me too,” Cas continued softly. “You smell like cirrus clouds in a blue sky and when the sun shines on my face.”

A comfortable silence filled the room as Cas absentmindedly continued his work on Dean’s shoulders. “Cas, would you prefer I stay a chick?” Dean asked softly.

The angel shook his head. “Why do you ask such questions, Dean? You already know the answer. The real question is what do you prefer?”

“I’m not so sure anymore,” Dean admitted. “I mean my gut reaction is ‘Hell yeah I want my dick back and I want to be able to clock assholes in the face and I don’t ever want to wear friggin high heels again.’ But it really hasn’t been that hard and…” Dean’s face turned red. He started memorizing carpet fibers.

“What?” Cas queried.

Dean addressed the brown shag and said quietly, “I need to know what it’s like to have you inside me, Cas.”

Castiel took a slow breath and said, “Dean, I can do that for you regardless of whether you’re female or male.”

“I know,” Dean whispered. “I have to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.” A wave of nausea took over and Dean groaned. “I feel like crap. If I start my period tomorrow I will be so pissed.”

“Why don’t we continue this in the morning, then?” Cas asked, helping Dean out of his jeans and shepherding him under the covers. “I picked up a few things in case you need them.”

Dean smirked, and in a sing-song voice said, “You’re like the best boyfriend, ever.”

“I know, Dean,” Cas replied. “I’ll get you some ice cream tomorrow.”

“Jerk,” Dean chuckled.

\-----------------------------------

Dean woke to a pounding headache. He eased one eye open and felt like he was staring into the headlights of an oncoming semi. _Crap_ , he thought, and huddled under the blankets. Slowly two thoughts came to him: first, that this seemed oddly familiar and second, that Cas was staring down at him, grinning like a maniac.

“Morning, Dean,” Cas said.

“What are you so…” Dean’s eyes shot open and all he could see was Cas’ wide, toothy smile. Dean’s voice was deep and scratchy from sleep but it was his old voice. He rolled on his back and put his hands in the air, studying the rougher skin and light hairs. Then he looked at Cas and smiled as he snaked a hand in the impossibly tight panties he had fallen asleep in and found an old friend.

Cas rolled his eyes and laughed.

Dean reached out for Cas and brought him in close, feeling relief and a surge of happiness. He kissed Cas’ forehead and felt the other man relax into him. “Oh man, Cas,” he chuckled. “This is a good day.”

“I will still get you ice cream, Dean,” Cas offered.

Dean laughed and turned to look Cas in the eyes. He reached out a hand and rubbed the stubble on Cas’ jaw. Cas nuzzled into it, then looked apprehensively at Dean. “I understand if you need some time to figure things out, Dean. I know you said you don’t want to go back to the way things were, but this is a big change.”

“Hey,” Dean said softly. “It’s okay. I’m not changing my mind about anything.”

“Good,” Cas smiled back at him. “That makes me very happy.”

“Good,” Dean repeated. “Can I kiss you, Cas?”

“That would make me very happy as well,” Cas replied.

Dean eased his hand behind Cas’ head and gently pulled him in. They kissed slowly, Cas leaning over Dean and then sliding against him, melting into him. Cas felt entirely different now; lighter on Dean’s body, smoother against his rougher hands and smaller now that he was back to his normal height. Dean tested all these new sensations by cautiously putting his hands on Cas’ hips and shifting him bodily between his own legs. He felt Cas smile in his mouth and took the opportunity to lightly flick his tongue against Cas’ teeth then gingerly seek out his tongue.

Cas kept his kisses light, letting Dean set the pace. He could tell Dean was getting used to him from a new perspective, so he gave Dean the space to move him and kiss him. But now that he was on Dean, pressed against him, he forgot himself and slid easily against the silk panties. Dean pushed back and looked at Cas with a mix of surprise and excitement.

“I’m sorry. Too much?” Cas asked.

“No,” Dean whispered. “But I have to get out of these things before they cut off the circulation in my legs.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Cas replied. “May I help you? I’d like to try something with you that you did to me.”

Dean swallowed hard and said “Kiss me again first, Cas.”

Cas leaned back down and kissed Dean deeply, heard Dean groan lightly into his mouth as they slowly moved their tongues together. Cas instinctively smoothed Dean’s hair away from his face, belatedly realizing that the long locks were gone. He ran his fingers against Dean’s scalp instead, giving a handful of hair a gentle tug. Lips still sliding against each other, Cas trailed one of his fingers down Dean’s neck.

“Now?” he asked.

Dean nodded with a smile.

Cas slid down Dean’s body, kissing nipples, broad chest, toned core. Beneath him, Dean was brand new. Cas took his time cataloging the sensation of hair and muscle on his lips. He eased the tight panties off Dean’s hips, freeing Dean’s erection, and was rewarded with a small moan. He palmed Dean’s hard cock, and looked up to see eyes on him, huge and intense. “Try not to choke me, Dean,” Cas smiled, parting his lips and wrapping them around Dean’s tip.

Dean had propped himself up on his elbows so he wouldn’t miss a second of this. Cas looked so hot, hair disheveled like they’d been screwing for hours already, face intense and curious. He reveled in the feeling of stubble against his skin as Cas had traveled down his body. Then that hot, wet mouth was on him, forceful and sure, and it was fantastic – familiar but then so different. He leaned his head back and called out Cas’ name.

Cas’ tongue did amazing things to him, circling the head of his cock, playing with the slit at the top, then sucking the tip.

"Shit, Cas,” he moaned. “Please?”

Cas stopped and pulled off, whispering “Please what?”

Unfortunately Dean’s brain quit working the instant Cas was gone, not comprehending why the heat and the wet had disappeared. He wasn’t even sure what Cas was asking until that tongue was back, lightly licking again.

“Uh, please, more?” Dean panted tentatively. “Please all of it? Please take all of it?”

Cas smiled like a Cheshire cat, opened his mouth and very carefully used his teeth to gently scrape up the side of Dean’s cock, just under the tip. Dean gasped loudly, afraid to move. “You little shit,” he chuckled. “God, Cas, you’re killing me.”

And like that, the tentativeness and uncertainty were gone. The two were back where they had left off, with honesty and love and connection. In response, Cas opened wide and slid his mouth down Dean’s length, almost to the base, ripping a loud moan from Dean's lips. Dean could feel the tightness at the back of Cas’ throat hug his cock. It was sublime.

Cas pulled virtually all the way off then took as much of Dean as he could, over and over, building a rhythm that Dean’s body quickly responded to. Cas removed his mouth again but wrapped his hand around Dean and stroked him as he said, “Dean, do whatever you need to. You’re not going to hurt me.” Then he put his hand at the small of Dean’s back and guided them both onto their sides.

He was confused by those words, wondering why Cas thought he would do anything to hurt him when everything felt so good, so hot and wet and glorious, until Cas’ mouth was back and he felt a strong hand squeeze his ass. He involuntarily scooted away, which sent him thrusting into Cas’ mouth and the hum of approval around his dick sent ripples of pleasure through his body. He almost came right there, but instead, choking back a small sob, he placed his hand on the back of Cas’ head and starting rocking into the angel’s mouth.

He tried to control himself for Cas’ sake, tried to be thoughtful and considerate, until Cas clutched his ass again, digging into the muscle. “Fuck!” he yelled and just gave in. He wanted more, wanted all of Cas and rocking turned into honest-to-god thrusts that were full of need. He was pleading with Cas, who stayed with him, took what he gave. Pleasure was coiling in his gut, getting tighter and tighter, when Dean felt Cas’ finger in his mouth. Surprised, he sucked and flicked his tongue around it wildly only to have it returned to him as Cas lightly skimmed his hand through the crease of Dean’s ass and gently rubbed that slick finger against his hole.

Dean eyes sprang open in disbelief and he came with a shout, grabbing Cas’ hair roughly and losing himself in the feeling of release. He panted heavily, desperate for air, searching Cas’ eyes for the pain or disappointment he was sure were there. Instead Cas was climbing up Dean like a pole, resting a flat palm on his chest and sending him praise and adoration. Dean’s relief was immense and he relaxed immediately.

“Cas,” he whispered.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Please fuck me,” he said softly.

Cas kissed Dean’s chest and slipped off the bed, returning quickly with a drugstore bag filled with tampons, pads, beef jerky, M&Ms and a small bottle of lube.

Dean started laughing. “Again, who are you and what have you done with Cas?”

“Dean, I may not have experienced this before, but I know what to do,” he scolded.

“Well then you’re ahead of me, man, because I really haven’t got a clue,” Dean replied. He reached out a hand and touched Cas’ knee. “Hey.”

Cas looked up at him with a questioning look.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean,” Cas just about beamed. “Let me show you.”

“Dude, you just did,” Dean smiled. “I’m…well just…”

“It’s okay, Dean. Don’t worry. Is this what you want?” Cas asked.

“Yes,” Dean said with conviction.

“Then let me give this to you,” Cas replied. “Roll over.”

Dean complied, loose and relaxed, desperately chasing away thoughts of fear and self-recrimination. _Cas is fine with this_ , he thought. _I can be fine with this_. He had closed his eyes, laying his head on his arm and fighting down a medium-sized panic attack, when he realized that it was quiet around him. He wondered if Cas had changed his mind when he felt the bed give next to him.

“Dean,” Cas said softly. Dean opened his eyes to see Cas lying beside him. “Give me your hand please.”

Dean brought his hand up and Cas interlaced their fingers together. He stared into Dean’s eyes and then kissed the knuckles on Dean’s hand. “Can you tell me what you’re worried about?”

Dean felt his eyes stinging and blinked. He shook his head, and then leaned his forehead against their fingers. He thought about Sam and letting him down. He remembered the first time his father had chastised him on a hunt for being afraid by calling him a “pansy.” He recalled the panic of that first morning when he wasn’t a man anymore. He flashed on the movie Philadelphia for some reason and the way Tom Hanks had to laugh along with his boss after hearing him tell a crass joke about gays.

“So you think letting me love you makes you less of a man?” Cas asked quietly. “You think this is going to change how other people think of you in a negative way? Dean, who you love doesn’t define you. How you love, your character, defines you. You are a brave, handsome, funny, passionate man who lives fully, whether it’s eating cheeseburgers or killing vampires. You are loyal almost to a fault, and you are fiercely protective of the people you care most about. You risk your life repeatedly for strangers then carry guilt because you could have done it better. I am honored to have fought with you, and I am blessed to be your friend and now your lover. Do you believe that?”

“I guess so,” Dean whispered, unable to look Cas in the eyes and uncomfortable under the weight of so many compliments.

“Everyone who knows you will not change their opinion of you because you are with me,” Cas continued. “Do you agree?”

Dean thought about it. He figured Sam, the friggin softie that he is, will probably give Dean the biggest bear hug possible when they finally talk about this. Garth would give him the smallest bear hug possible. Jody would punch his shoulder.

“We don’t have to do any of this, Dean. I will spend the rest of your life kissing you and giving you… _blow jobs_ if that’s what you want,” he said with a small smile.

An eye peeked out from under the arm. Cas felt the bed shake slightly from Dean’s chuckle.

“If you wanted to reciprocate, I would allow it,” Cas added.

That was enough to get Dean’s head completely up. A big grin lit up his face and Cas felt his heart soar.

“May I share something with you, Dean?” Cas asked. Dean nodded, leaning down and kissing the hand in his. “Trust me when I tell you that you have never experienced anything like this in your life. If you thought my mouth was enjoyable, this will…” Cas searched for the right phrase, one Dean would appreciate. His eyes lit up. “blow your mind.”

Dean laughed out loud. “Really?” he asked, pulling Cas close.

“Really. I’ve been studying and I am confident you will never want any other lover after this.”

“Cas, I don’t want any other lover now,” Dean said affectionately.

“Would you be curious about an orgasm so profound that you could ejaculate without being touched?” Cas offered.

“Seriously?” Dean asked, honestly interested.

“Remember the feeling of pins and needles and almost passing out? I can do that to you again,” Cas promised.

“No shit?!” Dean was genuinely intrigued.

“Would you like to try? I won’t think any less of you,” Cas teased.

The laugh that Dean allowed himself was warm and filled with relief. “Yes, Castiel, I would like to try this orgasm of which you speak,” he joked.

“Good!” the other man crowed. “Now, relax Dean.”

Dean chuckled and turned back over, anticipation slowly bubbling up through him as Cas massaged his shoulders and kissed between his shoulder blades. Both of Cas’ hands slowly traveled down Dean’s sides, maintaining contact, letting Dean know where he was and where he was going. Kisses followed down Dean’s spine; thumbs massaged into muscle.

“You are so beautiful, Dean,” Cas murmured into the flesh of his lower back. “Your skin feels so warm under my fingers.” His lips lightly kissed each cheek, followed by little bites that took the smallest amount of flesh and lightly pinched. He could feel Dean squirm in response. He licked up the back of each of Dean’s thighs and then nosed the crack of Dean’s ass, gently spread those cheeks apart, and licked the small ring of muscle hidden inside.

“Oh my god,” Dean moaned into his arm, jerking instinctively. Cas continued lapping on and around that spot, tickling it until Dean couldn’t help but move into the sensation, not away. And then Cas applied just a little more pressure and dipped the point of his tongue just barely into Dean. “Oh fuck, Cas!” he whined, feeling his recently reunited cock start to stiffen again. Cas refused to stop, teasing Dean open little by little, until Dean was sliding into the sheets for friction then rocking back to find Cas’ tongue again. His legs started to lightly shake. “What are you doing to me? What are you doing? Oh my god, Cas!” he chanted softly.

Cas raised Dean's hips off the bed, easing him back onto his knees. There was a pause and then Cas was back, but now a slick finger gently pressed in, just enough to breach. Dean groaned and Cas stilled, licking around his finger for a few seconds. Then Dean felt a hand on his hip, a reminder to breathe, so he willed himself to relax. Cas felt it immediately and gently started rocking Dean’s hips for him onto his finger, and then slid his hand down to Dean’s thigh.

Dean got the message. He was in control now. He tentatively eased himself back. It didn’t hurt, just felt different. As he rocked away from it, Cas stopped him with his left hand, then added more lube to it and another finger and rubbed them against Dean. Dean breathed out and slowly leaned back again, feeling the slight stretch as his body made room for both. This time he kept going, just to feel how deep he could take them. The feeling of slick skin was amazing and it seemed to fill up his entire body. And then he was rocking into Cas’ hand and lightly moaning.

Soon Cas stopped him once more, and there was more lube and another waiting finger. Dean started again, this time hearing unfamiliar sounds coming from his own mouth as he gently pushed back onto Cas’ hand. He was so full, had never felt anything like this. When he rocked now, Cas was there, gently caressing Dean’s lower back, lightly kissing the skin on Dean’s ass. “You should see it, Dean,” he whispered. “It’s incredible. Your body is all around my fingers. And you’re so tight and hot inside. Ohhh,” he sighed heavily. “Dean, may I please be inside you now?”

“Please,” Dean whimpered.

Cas gently eased out but then leaned against Dean as he squeezed lube into his palm and stroked himself. He positioned himself just at the edge of Dean and then rested a hand on his hip, both of them panting lightly with the thought of what this next minute meant. Dean let out a huff of air and then eased back, letting out a very low wail that was mirrored by Cas’ own cry.

Cas felt pleasure zip down his legs. He was surrounded by hot, wet muscle that hugged every contour of him like it was made to fit perfectly. He felt frozen in time, this fantastic sensation sweeping through him, waiting until he felt Dean relax into him. “You are amazing, Dean,” he said, voice thick with desire.

Cas eased back and then gently moved forward, rocking slightly. He tried to clear his head but Dean was so tight around him, barely giving as he moved. He kept a steady, gentle pace, letting Dean find it too, until Dean was pushing back into him, taking Cas deeper, groaning through it. Cas was fighting to maintain control as he listened to Dean come apart around him. But he had made a promise, so he stopped and gently eased out, resting back against his heels.

He was panting as he touched Dean and said quietly, “Turn over so I can see your face.”

Dean rolled and Cas felt his breath leave him in a gasp. Dean was flushed, panting and full of want. Sweat shown lightly on his forehead and he stared at Cas as if he held the secret to the universe, which Dean was fairly sure was truth. Cas pulled Dean close, eased back into him and then tilted his hips to brush right against Dean’s prostate. Dean arched into Cas, let out a sob, grabbed the sheets on both sides of him and held on for dear life.

Cas rocked against that spot, gently stroking inside Dean, and opened the place where Dean bottled up all the emotions he couldn't talk about, couldn't face. Dean tried to breathe. His skin ached. And he was talking, babbling, barely making any sense, crying out to Cas and begging him, he didn’t know what for. And then it was just a long string of vowels and he was coming again, white spurting up his belly, and he had no idea how. He was crying, tears and all, and he thought his heart was going to burst.

When Cas felt Dean’s orgasm on his cock, felt everything inside tense up around him, he shouted Dean’s name. He pulled Dean roughly by the hips, slamming into him three, maybe four times, then threw back his head and came hard. He fell stunned against Dean, not caring about the mess, as they both waited for the dust to settle. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and kissed the top of his head.

As soon as Cas could breathe again, he slipped out of Dean and went into the bathroom for a washcloth. He tossed it on Dean’s belly and Dean looked at him, dazed, then chuckled, “I don’t want any other lover, Cas.”

He banged on the shared motel room wall and shouted, “Sammy! I’m back!”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I honestly felt compelled to return Dean to his upright and locked position, and to give some Destiel to the Destiel folks going "where's the Destiel?" But I also loved the idea of him taking a different path. So click Next Chapter to see the Alternate Ending, then tell me which one you preferred!


	8. Love Me Tender - Alternate Ending

The motel room seemed smaller, a little claustrophobic. Or perhaps, Dean considered, Cas just seemed bigger. He simply took up more space. He remembered those swirling colors moving around and through the angel sitting at the head of the king-sized bed. There seemed to be less oxygen around Cas, and Dean realized he was breathing heavier. It was like being in the same room as the Aurora Borealis.

And then there was the gravitational pull. Dean couldn’t keep his eyes off Cas. Without realizing it, he was slowly pacing in a semi-circle around the bed, keeping to the outside corners of the room. He paused by the chair next to the TV and toed off his boots, pulling off black cotton socks. He shook his head lightly and went into the bathroom, walking back out within seconds still wearing an AC/DC t-shirt and jeans but with a white lace bra dangling by a strap in his hand. He tossed it onto the chair by the TV. It landed on Cas’ tan trench coat.

“God it feels good to get out of that,” he muttered to himself. He rolled his neck, smiling as he felt Castiel’s eyes on him.

Dean padded over to the kitchenette and grabbed his favorite safety blanket from the mini fridge. He offered one to Cas, who merely smiled in response. The cool bottle felt good in his hand as he twisted off the cap and took a swig, then leaned back against the counter to stare at Cas appreciatively.

“I feel like I’m under a microscope, Dean,” Cas chuckled.

Dean couldn’t help smiling. “I will never think of you as just a ‘little nerdy guy’ ever again, Cas.” He sighed as he took another drink.

“Come here,” Cas said deeply. Dean set his beer on the counter and walked to where Cas sat, all dark hair and blue eyes, tie askew. Dark slacks covered legs that stretched out in front of him, so Dean sat on the edge of the bed and lightly tapped a thigh to get Cas to sit up. He obliged and Dean joined him, both sitting cross-legged on the tan bedspread facing each other. Dean leaned back on his arms and looked at Cas appraisingly.

“You are so much more than I ever thought, you know?” Dean admitted. “I mean you have always been this amazing badass in an adorable little wrapper, with your head tilty thing and your big eyes. You looked so naïve most of the time, unless you were killing monsters or smiting someone,” he laughed. “But you were right; I should have showed you more respect. Now that I see you, I mean really see you, I feel like a huge jackass.”

Cas just smiled. “Don’t, although it was often extremely frustrating.” He paused. “What was more frustrating was not being able to express how I really felt about you.”

At that, Dean sat up, looking imploringly into the face across from him. “I still don’t get it. I am a messed up, broken piece of humanity, Cas, and you are a friggin angel of the Lord. There are _galaxies_ in your eyes. You swim in blue and purple _light_.”

“Why Dean, are you writing poems about me?” Cas teased.

“I’m serious, man!” Dean said suddenly.

The angel scowled and reached out to hold Dean’s hands. “I will say this over and over again. I have loved you since the first time I touched you. I will love you forever. Dean, I have made more mistakes than a ‘friggin angel of the Lord’ should ever have been permitted to, but I have finally decided that I deserve you.”

“You deserve…” was about all Dean could get out. He sprang on Cas, leaning over to press them both against the wall with a hard kiss. Cas pulled Dean close, and he ended up sitting in the triangle of Cas’ crossed legs, arms behind Cas’ neck, pulling him into a warm, wet and open kiss. It was desperation, fierce possessiveness and gratitude, with tongues. Dean pulled away to whisper, “If you make me cry, so help me I will punch you.”

They smiled at each other until Cas curled an arm around Dean’s waist and moved them both down the bed. Then he was over Dean, pressing into his mouth, kissing down his neck. Dean sighed heavily, contentment coursing through him like a drug as he crooked his feet over Cas’ ankles. Hot breath greeted Dean’s left breast, and then Cas’ mouth was on the fabric, teeth carefully chewing a nipple through the thin t-shirt. Dean let out a loud moan.

He grasped Cas’ face in his hands, looking at him hungrily. “Cas, do you want me to stay a chick?” Dean demanded.

The angel shook his head. “Why do you ask such questions, Dean? You already know the answer. The real question is what do you want?”

“I’m not so sure anymore,” Dean admitted, searching Cas’ eyes for the direction he desperately wanted. “I mean my gut reaction is ‘Hell yeah I want my dick back and I want to be able to clock assholes in the face and I don’t ever want to wear friggin high heels again.’ But…” Dean’s face turned red with embarrassment, yet he held Cas’ gaze.

“Yes Dean?”

Dean swallowed, and then said quietly, “I need to know what it’s like to have you inside me, Cas.”

Castiel took a slow breath and said, “I can do that for you regardless of whether you’re female or male.”

“I know,” Dean replied. “But I don’t think I want to know as a male, when I can know as a female.” The words felt uncomfortable in his mouth, but he felt better as soon as they were out in the air between them.

“Dean, I’m a little surprised,” Cas said gently. “You’ve always identified so strongly as a man. You are an amazing woman as well, but are you sure?”

Dean’s heart was hammering inside his chest. “I… Cas I am scared shitless right now,” he said in a hushed voice. “But I want this with you. This feels right to me.”

“What do you need?” Cas asked, kissing Dean’s forehead.

“Well, ah, I could hope that I don’t turn back or I, uh, _we_ could do the thing that will make sure it doesn’t happen,” he stammered.

Cas lowered his head to Dean’s ear and whispered, “Do you want me to make love to you, Dean?”

Dean could only nod. That voice and those words shot straight south, and he almost groaned out loud. He closed his eyes so Cas couldn’t see the fear and desperation there, and then thought, _I’m a grown-ass man, not a friggin teenage girl_. So he took a shaky breath, opened his eyes and said “Yes, Cas. I know you’ve done this before, but if you like, I’ll walk you through it.”

\----------------------------------------------

They helped each other out of their clothes, sharing small smiles. At one point Dean laughed and said, “Hey, there’s this movie called The 40 Year Old Virgin. It’s hilarious! And it’s basically me. Well, not for long, but, you know…”

Cas smiled back and said apologetically, “Dean I understand this is may not be very enjoyable for you.”

Dean shrugged. “Well, there are ways to make it as enjoyable as possible. And trust me, it will get very enjoyable soon after.” He walked to Cas and loosely hugged his waist. “I plan on there being a ‘soon after’ very soon after.”

“And all the other female experiences? Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“Cas, you are worth PMS and periods,” Dean promised, kissing him on the chest.

“And pregnancy?” Cas asked. Dean looked up at him in shock. “Dean, I wasn’t presuming anything!” Cas assured him hurriedly. “I was only making a joke!”

Dean’s eyes only got wider. “Dude, get my wallet right now!” Cas quickly strode to Dean’s duffel and brought the wallet back to him. “Could you imagine?” Dean said, shaking his head and fishing out a silver packet. “Getting knocked up on my wedding night?”

It was Cas’ turn to look shocked. “Dean, do you want to get married?!”

“Well now that my biological clock is ticking!” he laughed. “Babe, come here,” he said, feeling much more at ease with the situation now that they were talking about it. “One step at a time.” He sighed. “Sam is going to have a field day tomorrow.”

Cas looked at him inquisitively.

“He’s going to tease me about this forever,” Dean explained.

“Yes, I believe he will. Or at least for the next 30 days.”

Dean tossed back the bedspread and settled down on the sheet below. Cas scooted in beside him, his hand tracing Enochian symbols on the soft skin of Dean’s belly. Dean turned to him and said, “Hey, you are my best friend and I’m crazy about you. I just want you to know that.” Cas stared right into his soul and then a huge, toothy grin spread across his face. Dean kissed him playfully and added, “Now put your mouth on me.”

A small growl escaped from the back of Cas’ throat. He gave Dean a quick kiss and stood. Dean shot him a quizzical look and then he was being pulled to the edge of the bed by his ankles. The feeling of being manhandled was completely new and Dean laughed out loud. He reached to his left and grabbed a pillow, tossing it lightly to Cas who caught it and dropped it on the ground in front of him. Cas kneeled, then returned both hands to Dean’s ankles and moved them to the edge of the bed as well, easing Dean’s knees up and making room. Dean sighed in anticipation, looked up at the ceiling and then closed his eyes.

The first thing he felt was hot breath between his legs, warming every inch. Then Cas’ mouth on him, wet with tiny flicks of his tongue. Pleasure shot up Dean’s back and somehow he kept himself from rocking into Cas’ face. Then the tongue flattened and a wide swath of moist heat and exquisite pressure moved just under and onto his clit. “Shit,” he exhaled, digging his head into the mattress and arching up. So Cas continued that motion, building a delightful rhythm until Dean seemed to relax into it. Then he slid his hands up Dean’s shins and back down, changed his tactic, and sucked hard on Dean’s clit.

Every nerve in Dean’s body felt pulled into Cas’ mouth and he let out a shout. “Oh God, Cas!” Dean panted, electricity humming under his skin. His hips moved without him, pulled into the sensation. Then Cas eased off, settled into long strokes until he felt Dean’s breathing slow, only to return to sucking again, taking Dean completely by surprise.

Cas continued the pattern, alternating between slow strokes that would build desire and an electric pull that grabbed into Dean, searching for a piece of him that was hidden deep. Dean was grinding into Cas, until suddenly his hands were on Cas’ head, grabbing at hair, skating down to his ears, then back to hair again. He felt his hips lifting off the bed to be closer, wanting to ease the pull. It was fantastic and intense and he could swear the skin was being stripped off his bones.

“Yes! Oh shit!” Dean cried out, gasping for breath. “Don’t stop! Please, Cas!” He was climbing, body aching, even his arms were tingling. He tried to breath, but could barely find air to fill his lungs. And Cas never stopped, his tongue pressing against Dean’s clit as he gently tugged.

But to Dean it was suddenly too much. He couldn’t handle it anymore. It had to stop yet he had no control. Then the pressure and the pull and the heat found that place inside him and grabbed it, opened it up and he was coming hard into Cas’ mouth. He was trying not to scream as wave after wave coursed through his body. Then he was moaning and Cas was there, holding on, rocking with him.

“What?” Dean sobbed, “What did you do?”

Cas was smoothing back Dean’s hair, smiling in awe and rocking them both together. “Dean,” he said quietly, “you’re okay, you’re fine.”

“I am not _fine_ , Cas! What the hell was that?” Dean panted, trying to make sense of what he was feeling, what he thought had happened.

“Dean, what did it feel like?” Cas asked.

“It felt like I fucking came in your mouth, that’s what it felt like!” he said, arm across his face, trying to get his heart rate back down before he had a coronary and died a virgin after the most intense orgasm ever. Which had him smiling and turning to face Cas. “Did I actually squirt in your mouth?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Cas answered, smiling.

“Holy shit,” Dean laughed. “That was amazing!” Then he poked at Cas’ chest and said, “you had better fucking remember that!”

“Dean, I doubt I will ever forget it,” Cas murmured.

They held each other close for a few more seconds, until Cas said softly, “I imagine you are about as ready as you can be, Dean. Do you still want to have intercourse?”

“Oh yeah, Cas,” Dean replied. “After that? You betcha.”

Cas kissed Dean’s cheek and picked up the condom from the bedside table. He looked at it uncertainly.

“Open the packet, take it out,” Dean coached. “Now put it on the tip and roll it down.” He looked at Cas with complete affection, thinking, _Dude is a friggin brain surgeon and needs help putting on a condom_. “Do you remember this morning, how we moved together?” he prompted. “Do that a little bit first.”

Cas nodded. Then he stood up off the edge of the bed and scooped Dean back to him. Dean wrapped his legs around Cas, who took a deep breath and looked down at him.

“What?” Dean asked quietly.

“I can’t believe this is going to happen, Dean,” he said. Dean felt the longing and the desire, the love and the anticipation, and certainly the fear and the awe – everything Cas was experiencing.

He breathed through it with Cas, then offered up a smile that grew until Cas was smiling too. “Dude, trust me when I tell you that you are going to love this,” Dean said with a wink. Cas nodded, slid his cock through the puddle that was Dean’s crotch three times, and then slowly pushed in.

Cas felt pleasure zip down his legs. He was surrounded by hot, wet velvet that hugged every contour of him like it was made to fit perfectly. He stood there, this fantastic sensation sweeping through him, watching Dean’s face change from smiling to a slight grimace, then a huff of air and back. He felt Dean relax into him. “You are amazing, Dean,” he said, voice thick with desire and a slight pleading look in his eyes.

“Go,” Dean replied, nodding his head, understanding what Cas needed to hear.

Cas eased back and then gently moved forward, rocking into Dean. He tried to clear his head and breathe but Dean was so tight around him, barely giving as he moved. He kept a steady, gentle pace, letting Dean find it too, until Dean was lifting into him, taking Cas deeper. Cas groaned and gently pushed Dean back into the center of the bed so he could lay on top of him, hear his heartbeat, and taste his skin.

They settled together, Cas slow and constant, Dean getting more confident, opening up. Then Dean’s hands were exploring his back, lightly skipping across the muscles as they moved. Cas felt his skin tingle under Dean’s soft touch, felt the sure grip of Dean’s hands against his biceps. He leaned down to breath Dean in and felt Dean’s mouth on his neck, then teeth on his shoulder. The combination of pain and pleasure sent a jolt through him and he gasped, pulling back to see Dean’s playful expression.

“You feel so good,” Cas whispered. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Yeah, you do,” Dean smiled knowingly.

“Can you come, Dean?” Cas asked.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “But it feels fantastic. Really good.”

Cas kissed Dean’s chest, rolling his hips into the soft flesh below him. He watched Dean’s face as he moved a little faster, thrusting in a little deeper. Dean merely smiled, then closed his eyes and leaned into Cas, helping him get the friction he needed. Cas felt the winding and heat gather in his gut, telling him to move faster, go deeper, but he ignored it, committed to making this as easy on Dean as possible. Besides he never wanted this to end so he kept the pace, stretching out this new and amazing connection for as long as he could.

He had closed his eyes, was breathing hard and concentrating on the rocking motion and the wet tight heat, when he felt Dean’s palm flat on his chest. He looked below him to see Dean’s face, gaze soft. “Let go,” he said firmly. So Cas did; he relaxed and immediately felt a wave of pleasure take him and carry him up. Then everything tensed and exploded out of him, filling Dean beneath him.

He was panting, staring into Dean’s green eyes, memorizing each freckle and the way his skin looked when it flushed, floating back down to earth. A slight smile played on his lips and he leaned down to whisper in Dean’s ear. “In all my time on this planet, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

\------------------------------------

They laid together, Dean relaxing on his back and Cas making figure 8s on Dean’s right nipple.

Dean let out a small sigh, but something nagged at him; an itch he couldn’t scratch, an apology he couldn’t remember why he needed to make. “Cas,” he said to the ceiling.

“Hmm?” was the reply. Cas had bent his head to taste the nipple currently under scrutiny.

“Cas stop,” Dean said firmly. Cas raised his head and looked Dean in the eye, head tilted. “I need to tell you something. I’ve been an idiot. I…”

Cas’ smile evaporated. “What is it Dean?” he asked, voice filled with concern.

“I pushed you too,” Dean confessed. “It wasn’t just Candy or other women before. I thought I knew best, even when you told me what you wanted.” Dean turned to look Cas in the eye. “I swear to you, I will never do that again.”

“Dean Winchester, you are becoming a better man in front of my eyes,” Cas marveled. He planted a lingering kiss on Dean’s forehead and Dean could feel the love and pride Cas had for him. He smiled broadly. Then somewhere in the back of his mind, a small piece of spider’s silk flickered against the light. His eyes bored into Cas’ searching for an answer to an unasked question.

“How long has it been there, Cas?” he asked quietly.

Cas held Dean’s gaze. “I think you know the answer, Dean.”

“Since you first touched me? Since you put me back together?” he implored.

“Yes,” Cas replied. He tentatively lowered his head back to Dean’s chest, nuzzling the nipple with his nose and then blowing cool air across it.

“It’s been there the entire time? Why didn’t I notice?”

“I didn’t want you to,” Cas confessed. “I didn’t want to burden you or make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Burden me?” Dean asked. “Cas, wait.” He started to sit up so Cas stopped his experiments and sat up with him. “It will never go away, will it?”

“Never,” Cas admitted. Dean closed his eyes as a not-entirely-small wave of dread rolled over him. He was forever linked to Cas. Literally linked to him. He wasn’t sure he should be forever linked to a turkey sandwich, let alone something as awe-inspiring and beautiful as this soldier of Heaven. His mind skipped to Lisa and he took a deep breath, worrying, _if this all falls to shit, if I screw this up, Cas will still be connected to me_.

Cas reached out for one of Dean’s hands, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing each knuckle. “Dean, it’s been there the entire time and I can shut it down for you. Once you became more receptive, I thought it was safe to share it.”

“You’ve felt it for years, all alone?” Dean probed. “No wonder you stood too close all the time. Shit, Cas, that must have been lonely for you.” He looked into the angel’s eyes and a silly, old-fashioned word came to him: _unrequited_.

“I’m going to kiss you now, you stupid son of a bitch,” Dean whispered, moving in close. “Like we should have been doing, forever.” He cupped Cas’ face in both of his hands and shook his head slowly. Then Dean gently kissed Cas, rubbing a thumb against his jawline. He kissed Cas with soft lips, kissed his cheeks and closed eyes, all the while thinking, _I’m sorry you were so alone. I’m sorry that we waited so long and wasted so much time_.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas soothed. “I am very happy. I love you. I want to give you everything.”

It was unreal, actually, hearing words of complete devotion being directed towards him, to him, about him. Not husky, sexy, hot, screw-me-now words that only lasted as long as the breath that carried them. These words were meaty; they were substantial and they fed Dean’s soul, leaving him sated.

Then something Cas had said days ago came back to him. “You said you wanted me to really feel the bond you feel between us. Does that mean that you, uh, feel it like how you felt this morning? You know, physically?”

“Yes,” Cas replied. “It’s not as intense as an orgasm, but calling on that bond provides me with very pleasant sensations. I really don’t need more than that and kissing; however, I know that being intimate helps you feel what I feel.” Cas tilted his head and rolled his eyes to the side and said, “I am willing to make that sacrifice for you.”

“Oh you are?” Dean said sarcastically, a huge grin on his face. “Dude, ‘willing to make that sacrifice?’ You are such a _giver_ , Cas.” He laughed, then asked, “Hey, what about the smells? You smell like baseball fields in the summer and someone’s baking cookies. It’s amazing. Is that like angel cologne?”

“I would say it is more like angel pheromones,” Cas explained. He leaned back against the head of the bed, and then spread his legs so Dean could lean his back against his chest. His hands started massaging Dean’s shoulders, rubbing the tight muscles with his thumbs. “I think it is hardly surprising that when you feel loved you smell things that remind you of your childhood in Kansas – of home. You smell like home to me too,” Cas continued softly. “You smell like cirrus clouds in a blue sky and when the sun shines on my face.”

\--------------------------------------------

Sam couldn’t be sure, but as he watched his brother and Cas sit side by side in the booth across from him all he could think was _I felt a great disturbance in the Force_. He kept eating his fruit and yogurt and tried not to stare as he puzzled out what had changed.

He knew Dean’s hand was on Cas’ knee under the table. Cas’ arm was casually draped around Dean’s shoulders and he periodically let his lips brush across Dean’s temple in a very light kiss. It was like the air had calmed and the sexual tension had been replaced by…peace? Devotion?

“Holy shit,” he said softly.

Dean turned and stared at his little brother, a smile forming that confirmed there was a secret to be uncovered.

“Are you serious, Dean?” Sam asked in shock. He looked at Cas and then back to the pretty woman across from him, her eyes sparkling even as a slight blush turned her cheeks a soft pink under her freckles.

“Get the paperwork together, Sam,” she said lightly. “I’m thinking ‘Deana.’”

Sam started laughing and couldn’t stop.

“I told you,” Dean said to Cas, who smiled back at her. She picked her phone up off the table and found the number she was looking for in the contacts list. She waited as it rang, rubbing the back of her neck absentmindedly, and then said, “Hey Jody, this might be a little hard to believe but this is Dean Winchester. I’m hoping you can help me.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you enjoyed one or both of the endings of this Chick Flick! Please post a comment and tell me which one you liked best and why!


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